#i met a guy the other day at a social event who is the epitome of an art snob - down to the glass of wine fancy colourful suit and tie

[lozislaw]

HELLOOOOO, I LOVE YOUR ART 💗💗💗💗 but I want to know if you have some tips for anatomy??? CUZ I WANNA LEARN TOO, or do you know some artists that may have some tips for anatomy? 🥺especially HANDS cuz omg they’re a total pain 😩😩

I love you btw 🖤

Oh god oh jeez. I have no idea what advice I could possibly give that wouldn't sound like a goose trying to learn English with a parrot translator. But goddammit I'm gonna try my way.

This is embarrassing because I'm literally in art school and I'm lacking fundamental advice for anatomy like those incredibly clever art-tips you see online. But I've picked things up along the way I swear. Maybe not exactly what you're asking for (probably definitely not - so I apologise in advance), but I think they're good to know anyway. Bear with me as I vomit them out.

Firstly, I'm gonna play a broken record to you on repeat here, which is the most important thing when it comes to improvement. You guessed it: PRACTISE (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I know - Trust me I know it sounds tiring, and the idea is much easier than actually picking up your tool and doing it. But there's no way around it. Not even the most talented and incredible artists in the world become that way at the moment of birth; they're spending their lives practising and learning new things. Whether professionally or not, you don't become amazing overnight. It takes effort; and whether you want to treat that effort as work, or fun, is completely up to you. Being one or the other doesn't change your skill - it only changes the way you view your practise. Personally; I view my practise as fun, because it feels like more of an achievement when I make something I'm proud of. It's a win-win. Also because fanart is extremely fun always XD

If you keep practising - even if you hate your work at first and want it burned, I fucking promise you it'll pay off, even if it takes years. The best part about it is looking back on your progress and thinking: wow, I'm so proud of myself. For example here is my own evolution, one from August 2020 - to September 2021

(I was brand new to digital art with a purely traditional background, so I was extremely naive about the whole concept. Looking at multitudes of fanart is my only education XD)

This is the evolution of practice and studying the shit out of other peoples art; experimenting like crazy and teaching yourself from the basics to the advanced. Spend one week practising curls and nothing else. Spend another learning how to render skin. And another doing nothing but hands and fingers and wrists galore. Draw a hand using a photo, even trace over it. Learn your shapes first and then you can advance to the next step. Dip your toes in and you won't get overwhelmed <3

I know this isn't exactly nitty-gritty anatomy tips, but at the end of the day any advice is just more education; it helps all around. I'm gonna give you something else - a much more specific tip; an exercise. It's fun I promise, because there's no such thing as a bad result, they're all equally bad XD Shit - I can hear my teacher scowling, I meant good.

You can do this digitally if you prefer, but I like using simple pencil and paper, it feels more fluid. There are two ways to practise accessing the right-side of your brain (the creative side). Or in a less pretentious way to say: how to stop giving a fuck about being perfect.

The first way is called blind continuous line-drawing. It’s pretty self-explanatory: you either use a reference in front of you or just on memory, and draw it without ever lifting your pencil up. But you don’t look at your paper at all, you’re letting your hand and your memory guide you. The more you practise this, the more you stop worrying about making it neat and perfect, you can fucking let loose. Make music that sounds like cats shoved into a washing machine. This exercise will follow you on your other art pursuits, even if you don’t realise it. Remember, practise baby~

Next exercise, and my personal favourite is loose line sketches. They’re similar to continuous line in the way that you’re encouraged to let your inhibitions go and make a mess. You can lift your pencil, and you can look at your paper, and essentially it’s like sketching... if your sketching was like an ice-addict having a seizure. Which is beautiful! And unique, and dammit you don’t need to feel embarrassed, but none of these are meant to be perfect.

See the heavy loose lines that I use sparingly in the sources of light, and condensed in the spaces of darkness. I put away that little devil telling me to be perfect and concise, and just have fun and go bonkers. It teaches you about form and light without spending 5 hours trying to make it photorealistic. These all took less than 5 minutes, that’s how little I gave a fuck about making them perfect. And goddamn it helps. Give them a try, spend no more than five minutes on them, and see how you go <3 It works digitally too!

Okay this answer is so long and I’m so sorry, I don’t even know if I’ve answered your question at this point, I’ve gone off the rails. Hands... okay hands. Hands are the most difficult thing for me to draw, which is just cruel irony because they’re also my favourite aside from faces. The most I can offer at this point is that practise will save your life. Observe other artists and how they draw, take the time to notice things about their art that you wouldn't at first glance. The highlights and source of light? The length of their fingers? Are they thick or delicate? Are they anime hands and fucking massive? Is that body slender or thicc? Where are they putting the curves, fat and muscle on their person (or furson, furries are welcome here ❤). Decide through this observation and your own practise what kind of style you aspire to have out of your art. Do what makes you proudest, what you find the most enjoyable, and as I've said, stop giving a fuck about anyone, including yourself. You have your own unique take on reality and it's beautiful <3 You can draw blob hands and it's okay, because they're your blob hands :3

And anon? I love you too ;3;

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 1

masterlist

Hello darlings! Here it is the first chapter of Something Wicked! A huge thank you to you all for the encouragement and a special thankyou to @36impala​ for putting up with my whiny ass and keeping me on track. Love you all! I hope you enjoy!--- chaotic puff. 

Kim Seokjin was a successful man, a powerful man, which was why for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how this had happened? How could his charms not work against her? How could she ignore his advances? He was handsome, rich, charming, everything a woman could want, everything every other woman did want. What was wrong with her? How could she refuse him? Didn’t she realize she was his? His precious darling?  

This was what Kim Seokjin contemplated as he looked out of his office window and out towards the desk where his personal assistant sat proper as ever. Jin sighed to himself looking over the woman who had completely overtaken his thoughts. She was soft and demure, and the only assistant who had lasted more than a month with him. In the four years she’d worked for him, she had only ever been the epitome of efficiency. She knew his routines, his likes, his dislikes, and how to expertly field the calls he didn’t want to deal with. She was perfect.

He’d been flirting with her from the start. How could he not? She was very pretty and he? He was world wide handsome. It was his duty to flirt with the pretty women of the world and be worshiped in return, but she only ever met his advances with a polite smile and a redirection to more professional topics. It had only been in the past year or so that he had begun to seriously try to woo her, and yet she still remained unmoved.  

She refused every invitation for lunch, every invitation to join him for coffee in the afternoons. She refused to join him for dinner. How could she not see that they were perfect for each other? What other woman was so well suited to his needs? She had been molded to perfection by his own hands, but she was either too naïve or too stupid to realize that it seemed. His poor stupid darling. If she couldn’t see it on her own, he would just have to make her see it.

“Y/N-ie…” He called out his voice more of a croon than anything demanding. He watched amused as she sighed to herself rising from her desk to come to him. Such a good girl for him, always coming when he called.

“Yes, sajangnim?” She asked entering the room and bowing politely. Such good manners, he noted pleased.

“Y/N-ie,” He cooed leaning forward on his desk flashing her a dazzling smile. “I’m thirsty. Bring tea for two won’t you, darling?”

Y/N smiled suppressing a sigh. She was long used to her boss’ flirtatious behavior and chose to ignore it. “I’ll bring the tea right away, sajangnim.” She agreed bowing again before leaving the room to fulfill his request.

The smile immediately fell as soon as she was out of sight replaced with a light scowl as she went to prepare tea just the way he liked it. If there was one thing she had learned in her time with Kim Seokjin it was that he was picky and demanded perfection from everyone around him. Everything had to be done just so for him. After all how could one provide anything less to the self-proclaimed world wide handsome?

She rolled her eyes at the thought. It wasn’t a secret that her boss was overwhelmingly arrogant. Everyone who worked for him knew that. It was painstakingly obvious to anyone who lived or worked in close proximity to the man. It was taxing, but at the very least he paid well. If he didn’t she would have quit after the first week with him, but somehow she had managed to survive four years as his personal assistant. It was the single most pitied position in the entire building. Everyone knew how demanding he was. The brunt of those demands was taken by whatever poor soul was his assistant. Not even the entire team of secretaries devoted to him got it quite as badly as his personal assistant did.

She was in charge of everything. His meals, his work schedule, his social calendar, everything. She was even the one that had to field the calls from his paramours and send out what seemed to be an endless stream of flowers, and sometimes jewelry depending on how much he liked the lady in question. As a result she knew far more about his personal life than she would have liked to.  

Another one of the secretaries found her in the kitchen fixing the tea as well as arranging the ridiculously overpriced cookies that their boss preferred on a plate.

“Is it that time of the afternoon already?” Hana asked arching a brow.

“Every afternoon like clockwork.”

They both laughed lightly both knowing how exasperating their boss could be, but at least he was consistently exasperating. “Did he ask you to join him again?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re going to bring him tea for one.”

“As always.” She agreed flashing a bright smile at the other woman. “He doesn’t pay me enough to sit and have tea with him.”

Hana hummed in agreement grabbing herself a cup of coffee. “I don’t know how you do it. He’s always so… him.”

“You mean world wide handsome?” She laughed framing her face with her hands and flashing a scrunchy smile before dropping the pose and rolling her eyes. “It is what it is. I won’t be working her forever, and I can put up with him till then.”

Hana’s eyes widened in horror. “You’re not allowed to leave us. He’s going to be completely insufferable if you leave!”

“Well I’m not quitting now. I have to save up for a wedding, for a life outside of this office.”

“Is Min Seok going to propose?” Hana asked excitedly nearly dropping her cup of coffee.

“I hope so.” She smiled blushing slightly. “We’ve been dating for over a year, and it seems like he’s been hinting at it.”

“Can I come to the wedding?”

“If there is a wedding, you can definitely come.” She laughed pouring the tea into the china that was specially set aside for the boss.

“Isn’t he trying for that position in Busan?” She asked sipping at her coffee.

She sighed frowning slightly. “He is, but we haven’t heard anything.”

“If he gets it will you go with him?”

Min Seok was a good guy, an amazing guy, but they hadn’t discussed the logistics of what would happen if he took the position in Busan. Her life was in Seoul, and as of yet, he hadn’t asked her to go with him. While Y/N was a patient woman by nature, not knowing was making her antsy.

“I suppose we’ll figure that out when he gets the job.” Her smile was dimmed now as doubts nagged at the back of her mind. “Now I should get this to him.”

“Good luck, Y/N-ssi. You know how annoyed he gets when you ignore him.” Hanna shuddered before taking another sip of her coffee.  

“It’ll be fine. The worst he can do is fire me.” She shrugged picking up the tray and heading back to the CEO’s office pasting on a bright smile before she entered.

“I have your tea, sajangnim.”

He looked at her from his position on the sofa where he had been waiting for her. He did this every day. He’d send her for tea for two and move to the sofa to wait for her. The expression dropped into a pout noting the fact that there was only one cup on the tray. There was always only one cup on the tray. “I thought I requested tea for two?”

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, sajangnim.” She bowed keeping her smile in place before she set the tray down on the table only to jerk back when Jin’s fingers brushed against hers. She tried to cover up her mistake by making her smiler brighter. Jin could never know that she was uncomfortable with him. She hated whenever he touched her. It somehow made her feel dirty especially as she knew his history with women.  

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Jin?” He scolded his mood darkening even though he kept on a mask of playful congeniality as he watched her retreat taking a cautious step backward admiring the way her skirt hugged her hips. God, he loved those tight little pencil skirts of hers.

“One more time, as always, sajangnim.”

He asked her at least once a day for her to speak to him informally, and she always refused. While he refused to keep the lines of their relationship professional, she did all she could to keep those boundaries in place. Referring to him by title was one of the ways she did that. Kim Seokjin was not a man she was overly interested in knowing. She knew too much about him already.

While she was annoyed by his lack of formality, Jin found himself annoyed with her refusal to comply with his wishes. It was one more thing he would have to fix before she became truly perfect. She would get there eventually. It would just take a little more effort on his part.

“It’s just a name, darling.”  She had to fight back a cringe at the endearment. She was by no means his darling, and it was a constant source of discomfort for both her and Min Seok. “Just one little name.”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate.” There was a slight tick in her jaw at his jaw at her words. His poor darling, ever the polite little thing, so warm and caring.

He loved how warm she was, the soft scent of roses that wafted from her. It was her favorite perfume. The one she wore most often, and a gift from him. The French perfume had been given under the guise of a birthday gift. It made him practically bristle with pride to know that she wore it. It had taken ages for him to get her to accept the gift. He loved the scent on her, a constant reminder that she was his.

“Please, enjoy your tea.” She bowed again turning to leave the room.

“Oh, and darling?” He called out watching her closely as she turned to face him again standing to meet her placing a hand on the small of her back. “I need you to escort me to the ballet next Saturday evening.”

He expected immediate acceptance of his invitation, but was instead met with a look of shock and confusion as she recoiled from his touch stealing her warmth from him.  

“The what? You don’t have any social events on your calendar for next Saturday.” She was running through her schedule in her head, and she still couldn’t recall any mention of the ballet on it. She tried to hide her discomfort by fixing her smile again though the expression was more nervous than she expected.

“The Russian ballet is visiting.” He explained. “I’ll be attending next Saturday evening with you by my side.”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t.” It was becoming harder and harder to maintain her smile as she faced him.

His brows furrowed, his own smile falling at her refusal. “It wasn’t a request, darling.” His dark eyes glittered as he watched her, daring her to refuse him again before he placed a pout on his lips. “You wouldn’t want me to be lonely at the ballet would you?”

“I’m very sorry sir, but I really can’t. I would be happy to arrange for the lady of your choice to accompany you though.”

“You are the lady of my choice.” His eyes grew more and more stormy the more she refused him. No one refused Kim Seokjin.

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for either of us, sajangnim.”

“We’ve been working together for four years now, Y/N. I thought we would be closer by now.” He pouted voice low bordering on a growl but not quite there.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would approve of my accompanying you to this event.” She bowed again smile strained hoping that he would drop it now that she had given him a reason why she couldn’t go with him. “I’m very sorry for any inconvenience this causes you.”

She bowed again before scurrying out of the room leaving a fuming Kim Seokjin behind her.

How could she refuse him in favor of another man? Didn’t she know who he was? When had she even gotten a boyfriend? He kept her so busy. When did she even have the time to date? Who was dumb enough to date his girl, his darling? Hadn’t he made it clear to everyone that she was his? Didn’t she realize she was his? Yes, he had his dalliances while he waited for her to come around, but she was above such things. She was his.

He picked up his phone calling one of his bodyguards. “I need everything you can dig up on Jang Y/N and the man she’s been seeing. Now.” He ordered voice a low growl.

For three years, he had kept tabs on her, but she was such an angel, his perfect angel, nothing ever turned up. He’d had his men stop gathering information on her, clearly a mistake on his part. He sighed trying to calm himself. It wasn’t his darling’s fault. He’d been lax. He’d turned his attention away from her, and she’d gone running to another man to make up for it, his poor stupid darling. It was something he intended to remedy immediately.

His gaze locked on the woman sitting outside at her desk fixated on the gentle slope of her neck as she looked over some papers. Yes, he would remedy his mistake post haste.

part 2

[twinkleallnight]

Marshmallow

(Part -15) Denouement

Book: The Royal Romance AU

Word count: 1974

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Teen/ PG

Warning: None.

A/N: An AU with Drake’s POV, showcasing his life as a commoner at the royal palace. Catch up here

I meet Hana couple of times after the drunk incident but ignore all signs. We never speak of what happened that night. May be, because I don’t want to acknowledge the obvious feelings blooming between us and she is too embarrassed about her state that night.

*******

Finally, the day arises when the country is full of cheerful sounds and bright colours. The palace is being decorated with expensive flowers and exquisite tapestries. Tapestries that depict the valour and courage of the Rhys dynasty.

I stand with Liam in front of a blank wall in anticipation. A life-size portrait is raised up by the palace staff and I see Liam’s chest swell up with pride as his head is held high looking into the eyes of his ancestor King Fabian in the image.

“Your favourite person.” I look at him knowingly.

“My idol. When I wear the crown today, I want to be just and true to my people like him.”

I clasp his shoulder. “You will be the most compassionate king Cordonia has seen.”

“I hope.” Liam beams. “Would you like to come with me to the study? I plan to brush up my speech and then head for the lunch.”

“You go ahead. I think I will see you at the ball. Call me if you need me around.”

“May I know where are you headed to?”

“I have to be at the boutique for a trial.” I say sheepishly.

Liam’s eyes widen, “You are going to dress up?”

I grin, “It’s my best friend’s coronation ball.”

He cocks his head searching in my eyes. “Or is it Hana?”

“I won’t deny.” I reply bashfully.

Liam nods his head with a smile. “I like the new Drake.”

“It’s the same old me.”

“Well, that we will see in the evening.” Liam chortles. “See you at the ball.” He waves and walks away.

I make a beeline to the boutique and coyly enter in. Hana had assured me that no one will be there around at this hour of the day.

“Hana...”, I call out in a tense voice.

She sways down smiling at me from the back of the room and holds my hand. “I am so glad you agreed. You are going to love this.” She pushes me to the trial rooms in excitement. “Go on. Try it.”

When I walk out dressed in a grey suit, she lets out a gasp and scurries to me. Her arms wrap around my neck making me chuckle. She gives me a quick hug and steps back admiring. “Wait here. I want to show you something.”

She brings out another garment bag. She flips the bag to reveal a silver grey gown. “ I found something matching with your suit to wear.” She giggles. I shake my head smiling in disbelief.

“What? You find it funny?” she pouts, a bit disheartened.

“Absolutely not!” I raise her chin with my curled finger. “Look at me. I was the commoner who never showed interest in any of these pompous affairs. But with you around I feel like a different person. I want to try it all. It’s not funny. It’s just that I am beaming at the new me.”

Her eyes brighten up again. “I am so excited for tonight.”

“ I can see that. Me too.”

“Okay, now you need to leave. I have some more last minute things to finish.”

“You sure don’t need my help anywhere.”

“No. Thank you.”

She pushes me out of the boutique giggling in enthusiasm.

I have a quiet lunch and retire to my quarters till evening.

*************

Later in the evening:

The palace shines in all its glory with strings of lights twinkling around its edges. The nobles arrive in their luxury vehicles one after another draped in choicest of designer wears, waving out to the cameras flashing at the entrance. The media is covering the country’s most important event in decades, alerting their representatives to capture who’s who of the royal court.

I calmly observe the rush, as usual, from my favourite spot, the bar. Liam joins me soon.

“Hana has a great taste.”

“What?” I look at him quizzically.

He raises his eyebrows in praise and waves his hand at me. “The suit looks good on you. She chose well.”

“Chose well? You mean the suit or me?”

He laughs out. “She has improved your sense of humour too. You are no longer the grumpy one.”

“I was never grumpy except in Riley’s dictionary.”

Just then, Max sprints towards Liam, “Hey Li, have you seen the grumpy guy around?”

I turn to him, “Very funny, Beaumont.”

“Oh, is it really you Drakey!” He gropes over and cups my face, his voice, a note higher and melodramatic. “You gave away your denims for a suit? That must be so painful. Are you alright?” He places the back of his hand on my forehead, trying to test my temperature.

“Cut it out Max.” I shrug away his hands as I notice Liam stifling a laugh.

Hana and Riley join the gang and they get busy with the chit chat. I notice Hana stealing glances at me but her eyes have a worried look. Something seems to be amiss that I cannot place my finger upon. After sometime she excuses herself and I find her exiting the main doors. I follow her towards the lawn.

There under the silver of moon, Hana shimmers in her silver gown, standing alone, deep in her thoughts. I step closer to her and wrap my arm around her shoulder.

She turns around to face me and suddenly hugs me tightly. “What’s wrong?” I ask her softly.

She doesn’t utter a word but pulls out an envelope from her clutch and hands it over to me. I don’t understand the foreign language written in it but definitely know that whatever it is, it has upset her. Her voice is almost a whisper when she says, “It’s over. I have to leave.” Still looking down into the letter.

I hold her at her elbows and tug, “Leave? Why?”

She raises her head and I see her eyes are welled up with tears. “It’s a letter from my parents. They say if I am not Liam’s choice tonight, which they know well, I should be moving back to Shangai tomorrow.”

I feel like someone has sucked out the breath from me, as I stand speechless in front of her.

‘Is this how it ends? No. Is this how I want it to end?’ It’s a split-second decision I make in a trice. I embrace her tightly. I hear her gasp with my unexpected move. Her hands lightly resting on my arms, letter still held in one.

I cup her face and look into my favourite honey almond eyes. “Hana…” I gather some more courage to say things I intend to. “I don’t know what happens tomorrow. But I want you to know that you are the most amazing person I have ever met. You are epitome of perfection yet you ignore the imperfections people around you have. Hell, you turn those short comings into a silver lining. You do things for the people you care. It’s impossible to stay away from you once someone gets to know you. I don’t know if I even deserve to be with you. But I want tell you this, that I… I love you. And I won’t let this end here. It’s not over. Not yet.”

She tries to open her mouth to say something but before that I lower my mouth on hers and capture the warmth of her lips. My fingers, cupping her face, feel the wetness of her tears rolling down her cheeks. I roll my thumb to wipe them away without breaking the kiss.

********

“How do you think it goes from here?” Riley questions in general.

“I don’t have any idea.” I rub my hands over my eyes.

I had requested Liam for an urgent word regarding Hana’s plans, in turn he called Riley and now we are all seated with him in his study.

“Can’t you stay?” Riley asks Hana.

“No.” Hana speaks softly, looking into a hollow.

“Why?”

“This is how it was supposed to be. My parents wanted me to be in Cordonia so that I find a suitable match in some noble house. With the social season coming to an end tonight, they don’t want me to stay any longer without purpose.”

“Damn it!” I curse in frustration.

“So, we really can’t do anything?” Riley looks at Liam for an answer.

“Not immediately. We will have to wait.” Liam says brooding.

“How long?” Riley seems to be more restless.

“Until I take over the office as the king of Cordonia.” He pauses, “And I can’t directly pass the first orders for Lee family at Shanghai when there must be many pressing issues Cordonia is dealing with. So we will have no option but to be patient.”

There is a knock at the door. Bastein peeps in to remind, “I am sorry to interrupt but we are running against time, sir. The king has asked for your presence in the main hall.”

Liam gets up looking at the watch. “I am afraid, we will have to curtail this meeting. Drake, I will see what I can do. I will update you.” He pats my back and then addresses Hana.

“Hana, trust me, we will find out a solution. I am sorry that you have to go through this.”

She gives a forced smile. “Thank you.”

Riley hugs her in reassurance and they both walk out of the study. I keep looking blankly at her retrieving figure. Bastein clears his throat to pull me back from my thoughts. “I… I…”

Bastein walks to me. He places his hand on my back. “Son, you are dealing with the nobles here. Don’t jump into action too soon. Take one step at a time. Things will fall in place if all goes well. Tomorrow, the king will be the one who is your best friend. As much as I know the boy, he will always have your back.” I nod in agreement.

“Have faith and some hope. This too shall pass.”

“Thank you, Bas.” I compose myself and stride down the hall with him.

The coronation ceremony is conducted smoothly. Watching Liam bearing a crown is a moment of pride. Minutes later, the announcement for the queen is made and against all odds he declares his love, lady Riley, as his future queen. They exchange rings and pose to the paparazzi as an officially engaged couple.

My eyes are stuck at the grand clock, each passing second ticking in my ear. My heart is racing against time. I scan through the crowd once again. Hana stands on the other end of the hall with other suitors. Our eyes pierce into each other hers throwing away sadness and mine hoping against hope.

“You know if Liam can get true love, against all odds, you too deserve to be with the one you love.” I snap at the voice that spoke behind me.

“Leo? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t have missed my baby brother’s coronation ceremony.” He shrugs. We meet each other with a hug.

“So, you and Hana, huh?” he asks inquisitively.

“Didn’t you just come back to Cordonia? How do you know?”

He looks across my shoulder at someone. “She knows, so I know.” He raises his glass wine in someone’s direction.

I turn around to see whom he is pointing to. My jaw drops when I check the lady walking towards us. She stops besides Leo and he places a soft kiss on her cheek. Their arms wind around each other’s waist.

“You…and…Livy?” I falter, astonished at the sudden turn of events.

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[stars-are-just-ghosts]

A World Full of Bullies, and the Four Kids Who Never Stop Fighting Them

This is a story about my four children and the small town they live in, a story about bullies and the people who stand up to them. Let me start by introducing the four of them. We’ll refer to them as the Sibling Mafia (this will be important later.) Each of them is as unique as the different parts of a harmony. They grew up closer than close. Best friends, siblings, confidants. They have their moments of disagreement, sibling rivalry, chaos. But there doesn’t go a day without them seeking out one another’s opinions and comfort. Theirs is a bond that can’t be replicated, or completely understood. The 17 year old, we’ll call her ‘Red,’ is the only girl in the bunch. She’s an artistic bisexual disaster (her words, not mine,) she’s riddled with equal parts anxiety and hope, and she holds her own like you wouldn’t believe (she’s surrounded by guys in her work, and out does them at every turn.) She’s five-foot-zero inches of kickass and love. And there isn’t a single person who can hold her back when she wants something. She’s had a rough several years, found herself beaten down to her most fractured level. But she fought back with every ounce of strength available to her and clawed her way back to the surface. She’s thriving. She’s scared. She’s dreaming of her future. (Her brothers have so often looked up to her, I think Red often feels like she’s surrounded by puppy dogs who would willingly battle-rush the world if it ever failed her.)  The 18 year old boy, we’ll call him ‘Blue,’ has high functioning autism and social communications disorder. The world is full of lines he’s steadily trying to figure out how to cross without changing the flow he relies on. From working in the adult world, to trying to hold on to the childhood he isn’t quite ready to let go of, Blue still manages to find the space and time to be the big brother he’s always been. It’s the most important thing to him. More important than his love for just about anything else. That has always been his choice. There isn’t a single one of his siblings that he doesn’t love ferociously. And though his emotions are sometimes tumultuous, he always finds a way to make what he really feels known to those closest to him. 

The 14 year old, we’ll call him ‘Purple,’ is a trans (female to male), bisexual, magnetic ray of absolute fricken sunshine. It’s impossible not to want to know more about him, to laugh with him, to share in his infectious well of joy. There isn’t a mean bone in his body, not a single inch of hatred in his DNA. From the moment he was born, he had a smile on his face. The world was his to make happy. And even though these last few years have been one hell of a confusing ride for him, he’s never stopped looking at the world around him like it’s something he wants to change for the better. The  almost-11 year old, we’ll call him ‘Green,’ is a pint sized sarcastic ball of genius who doesn’t see just how important he is to the people around him. His comedy is endless, a shield to protect himself and others from the nastier things life tries to throw. He’s smarter than the average 11 year old, but refuses to jump ahead a grade or two because he ‘just wants to enjoy school.’ And though he likes to pretend that he can handle everything that comes his way, there are times when it’s easy to see how young he truly is. It’s those moments that his siblings are his anchor to an uncertain universe, the chains that keep his gravity from failing him. And they are the epitome of his best friends, his comfort, his home. Red, Blue, Purple and Green have a lot in common. From Red and Purple loving art and music, to Green and Blue loving video games, to all four loving DnD night. They love to adventure together, to share inside jokes, to create beautiful mayhem on a daily basis. They love to learn together, to forget to do their chores together, to ask the world to ‘listen, dammit’ -together.  They also have trauma in common. Losses of those they loved, pains they’ve all had to feel, things a parent can’t protect them from... And there is so goddamn much I wish I could have protected them from. When Blue was in middle school, there was a boy, we’ll call him ‘Misunderstood.’ To him, Blue’s autism made him a prime target in the bullying arena. Like some other kids, Misunderstood would say mean things, call Blue names, make him momentarily feel like he would never fit into the world he so desperately wanted to be a part of. But what Misunderstood didn’t know was that Blue had a better world around him already, one that would come to save him when it counted most.  One day in gym class, Blue was playing basketball with his friends. He tossed the basketball, and it didn’t quite go where Blue was expecting. It sailed at Misunderstood and hit him in the head. It didn’t matter to Misunderstood that it was an accident. All that mattered was this could be a perfect excuse for retaliation. He closed the distance on Blue and punched him in the head. He knocked him out. But in that same moment, Blue’s friends and sister ran to the rescue. They rallied around him, chased Misunderstood away. Protected their friend and brother, because they knew that was exactly what Blue would have done for them. Because Blue is the sort of person to give a stranger the shirt off his back if they really needed it. Something of which Misunderstood couldn’t see. Imagine my terror when I got a phone call from the police. It was a sobering sight to see police cars and an ambulance when I squealed into the school parking lot. There is no way to explain the feelings of helplessness and fury I was inundated with. You know, logically, that your children will break bones and get stitches and have broken hearts and nightmares and a myriad of other pains that are simply a part of life. And you also know, unfortunately, that bullies exist. You never think that anything like this can happen, until it does, however. That’s not naivete. It’s not denial. It’s the hope that the world might not just be as awful as you think it is. Knowing that world proved that hope wrong, even for a moment, makes you want to wrap your children up in your arms and never let go. But that’s not how life works. There isn’t an excuse for what Misunderstood did. But there are things to understand. I can raise my children to be good, caring, kind people. But I have no say in what happens in other children’s lives. Was Misunderstood being cared for? Did he have parents who gave a shit about him? Or was he neglected? Was he lacking the resources to explain and feel his emotions properly? Was his life hell, and he just needed someone to see? I asked myself those things, trying to understand. I even asked the other adults in charge of the situation. But because Misunderstood was a minor, I had no legal right to know. It turned out, in the end, that Misunderstood was expelled. His parents moved him to a different school district. And Blue was left with the question he always seemed to ask when another child chose him to target: ‘Why me, Mom?’

There is no why. Because, like I said, nothing excuses what happened. What I wanted him to focus on was what happened inside the event. And what happened was loyalty, love, friendship and the coming together of individuals to stand up to a bully. Now, at 18 years old and nearly six feet, Blue still has those friends. And he has the lesson they taught him, not the one that Misunderstood wanted to teach. And he doesn’t ask ‘Why me, Mom?’ anymore. He asks, ‘Why not me?’ as he now steps in when someone needs protection. Most recently, Purple, my 14 year old, has had to face bullying of his own. Purple didn’t come out till a year and a half ago, and the daily progress to being the person he wants to be has been beautiful and brilliant. But there is another boy, who we’ll call ‘Unwarranted,’ who has pulled out all the stops to make Purple feel panic, anxiety, terror.  Back when covid was nearly past its first upsweep and all the schools were still closed down, Purple was desperately missing his friends. It was agreed, after a fair deal of hashing out the precautions, that he could see one of his best friends at the park. Purple hadn’t come out yet at that point, still struggling with what it would mean for all the relationships in his life. But the idea of seeing someone who he literally grew up with after being so long apart was too good for him to pass up. They met at the local park, a couple of other friends catching up with them there, and they hung out.  It was supposed to be an innocent, happy time for a kid who only ever tried to make people happy. It ended in police involvement and kids being physically hurt. Unwarranted had shown up with two much older kids. But the part he played was entirely his choice as all three terrorized the younger kids, with words and with physical threats that ended with large rocks being thrown. One child was hit in the head. My child was hit in the side. Both of them ended up hurt. All while they were running to Purple’s friend’s house for safety.  Unfortunately, there was so little we could do. It didn’t happen on school grounds, so the schools couldn’t be involved. The police couldn’t tell me much more other than they knew who the three bullies were, having been in trouble with the police before. And I couldn’t know anything else because they were minors. To protect my child, I couldn’t let him go to the park alone anymore. I drove him everywhere. I tried to help him forget. And over time, he did. Until the beginning of this school year. Purple started his Freshman year looking for new beginnings. He’d already firmly cemented himself in coming out, was totally authentic in who he is and who he wants to be. His friends are still his friends, completely accepting and loving him. And he tackled his first week of school with intensity and excitement.  In the back of my mind, however, I had never forgotten what happened at the park. The mother in me held on to it, because I couldn’t take the risk that something worse could happen. I hadn’t been able to protect or avoid what happened to Blue. But maybe I could protect Purple. I got in contact with the new principal at the high school, explaining the situation and that I did not want Purple to be in any classes with Unwarranted. He vehemently agreed. Purple doesn’t have a single class with him. It’s worked out well. Or it did, until they passed each other in the hall. In that brief moment, when classes were changing and kids were hurrying through the halls, Unwarranted took it upon himself to pick right up where he left off. Except now, Unwarranted isn’t the same size as Purple. He’s over six feet, athletic, and knows how intimidated Purple already was by him. The result was Purple incoherent with fear. There’s a reason I have referred to all four kids together as the Sibling Mafia. Because if you hurt one of them, you hurt all of them. And there’s hell to pay. Red and Blue, who are both Seniors at the high school, heard about the incident almost immediately. (It’s a small town, so small school, and word travels fast.) They didn’t go to their next classes. They took Purple to the office instead, and demanded something be done. They wanted answers and a resolution, and they wanted it fast. I received a phone call about it all from the guidance counselor who was just gushing over the bond they all shared, and the way they’d rallied around Purple. But it wasn’t just Red and Blue who rallied. It was their friends.  You see, if you’re friends with one of them, you’re friends with all of them. And in a place like this, it grows exponentially. So many people love Purple, and Red, and Blue, and Green. And it shows. The principal and counselor and school resource officer worked on a plan to keep Purple and Unwarranted from ever crossing paths. It was good. It was a start. Unfortunately, it did nothing for when the kids were walking home from school. Because Unwarranted decided to make prodding and inappropriate comments while walking behind him. Only, this time Blue and his best friend, we’ll call him ‘Orange,’ and two of Purple’s friends were there to do something about it. Because Unwarranted had a lot to say when he knew Purple was too scared to retaliate. (Red was with a friend, but was furious when she found out.) But being faced with the reality of a whole group who were more than capable of protecting Purple made him back right off. No fists were thrown. No one got hurt. And everyone made it home safely. 

And Purple came to me, despite his fear and wariness, to ask... ‘What if something is wrong with Unwarranted? What if something happened at home to make him act this way? Maybe we can help...’ My response was to breathe. To stare at this kid of mine, because the compassion in those words made my heart hurt. Here was this boy who was obviously being terrorized by someone else, and all he could think about was making sure that bully was okay? I told Purple, ‘You have no idea how amazing your heart is.’ I told him, ‘I don’t know what might be going on with Unwarranted. And it’s wonderful of you to want to help. But you also have the right to be safe, whether you’re in school or walking on the streets. You have the right to have a happy learning experience without fear of being cornered in the hallways. For now, as much as I know you want to figure it all out, my priority is making sure that you are safe.’ He nodded, hugged me, and went about his day.

I read somewhere once that bullies are predators. They will go after what appears to them to be the weakest prey. Trying to stop a bully by teaching a child to stand up to them is like teaching the weakest gazelle to be stronger. The predator will not stop going after the weakest prey, it will only stop going after that target. But what if that target was never weak to begin with? Purple may not have the physical attributes of a football player or a wrestler. But he’s got something even better. He’s a wolf with a pack who would be lesser without his knowledge and love. And there’s nothing that pack wouldn’t do to protect him, just like there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make their lives better. The Sibling Mafia extends beyond blood, it seems.  Now you might be wondering, where’s the almost-11 year old Green in all this? Green came into the first three’s lives when Purple was a little under three years old. At that point, they were already bonded and closer than I could have ever imagined. But the second Green’s little wiggly self came home, the change was immediate and overwhelming. Not in a bad way, not even remotely. You see, that bond transformed. It grew, it solidified, it settled into a whole new identity. It somehow made them far more whole than any of us realized they could be. Because all three older kids had lessons to teach and love to give, and with Green they could do all that together. Without any encouragement from me, because kids don’t need to be raising other kids, Green grew up being the literal center of their world. And they all loved each other more because of it. Green is just a little guy. He’s small and skinny and scrappy, full of wit and genius that often leaves the rest of us wondering where he got it from. He looks at his siblings like he wants to give them the universe. And he goes through life like he might just give it a reason to wise up to the possibility of goodness if it tries hard enough. Nothing holds him down for long. Events, losses, physical injury. He bounces back so fast that the rest of us get whiplash. 

But what happens when an event causes loss and physical injury at the same time?

Just this past week, the kids were walking home from school. Red has Senior release, which allows her to get out of school early most days. So it was just Blue, Purple and Green, walking with their friend Orange.  In the past, there have been bullies. Two of which I have mentioned. But some never made it to the ‘something we really have to worry about’ stage. One of these bullies, particular to Blue, decided it was time to graduate to that stage in a very dangerous way. We’ll call him, ‘Mistake.’ Because what he chose to do was a big mistake on his part. The kids had made it to just before the opening of our neighborhood. They were on the sidewalk. They’d been carefree, joking, laughing, talking, when a vehicle suddenly sped its way toward them on the road. The vehicle had a passenger and a driver: Mistake. And as Mistake accelerated, one of them threw a full bottle of Powerade out the window as hard as he could. We’re fairly certain he was aiming for Blue. 

It hit Green instead.  At that speed, with that much force, something as innocuous as a bottle of liquid can do real damage. It was only sheer luck that it hit Green in the leg. If it had hit him in the head, we’d all be sitting in a hospital room right now keeping vigil. That being said, Green is small. He’s skinny. The impact to his leg was enough to damage the muscles in his thigh. You can see the impact point, a literal imprint of the bottle on his skin. The bruising is very clear. The recovery will be slow. The first thing Green did was cling to Purple. Orange and Blue yelled after the car, but it had sped quickly away. The boys managed to get Green home right away. I had been working at my computer. And the next thing I knew, Green is in my arms, incoherent and in pain, crying so hard his whole body was shaking. Calling the police was an easy decision. Trying to hide my instant and unbridled rage was so much harder. The police are treating this as assault on a minor. The bottle was collected as evidence. Green was evaluated by physicians and will thankfully make a full physical recovery. But the emotional damage seems to be much worse. Green is not himself. He’s clingy, he’s worried, he’s having nightmares. He doesn’t want to walk home anymore, even knowing his brothers and Orange are there to protect him. His birthday is barely a week away, and he is trying so hard to be enthusiastic about it. But the bruise and pain in his leg keep offering reminders. The idea of leaving school grounds without one of his siblings or me makes him panic. And the light of innocence in his eyes is that much duller.

It was a senseless, useless act. One that’s rattled us all. 

Blue and Purple are blaming themselves, as though they should have been able to see it coming and protect Green. Red is angry that she didn’t just wait to walk with them, as though her being there would have stopped it altogether. Their grandparents, friends, teachers, counselors, and even random people I have never heard of are all up in arms. They want someone to pay. I think Green just wants to pretend it never happened at all. 

To be honest, I want Mistake to pay, too. Because it doesn’t matter who he was aiming at, this was clearly assault. Clearly intended to do harm. And I’m tired of feeling like I can’t protect my children.  When did the world become so cruel? When did parents stop teaching their children that kindness is not a weakness? When will I ever feel okay with sending my children out into such an unforgiving world? I know I’m angry. In fact, I’m enraged. But... I also still have hope. Green’s birthday is steadily approaching. The kids are doing everything they can think of to make him smile again, make him laugh, prove he’s loved and, most of all, safe. They’re using their hard earned money to get him gifts, to surprise him with a puppy they’re buying themselves, to give him his normalcy back. And I’m watching them hold on to each other through it all. Like they always have. Like, I hope, that they always will. The future is coming at them quickly. Red, Blue and Orange want to get an apartment together after high school. Purple and Green have decided they want to live together forever. And they’ve all decided that they have to make time, once a week or more, to be back under one roof.  We live in a small town, but they’re going to move on outside of it. Because the world outside of it is big, and they are well aware of that fact. They want to tackle it in their own way, individually and together. They want to see where this life takes them, no matter what tries to stop them. And they want to share that journey with each other, and with anyone who wants to be a part of it. I never could have predicted how close those four amazing kids would become, or how much they’ve already changed the world just by being who they are. They’re my hope, you see. In a world where anyone can be cruel, they choose to be kind. They choose to be the example by which everyone around them learns what kindness is. Misunderstood, Unwarranted, and Mistake are learning about kindness, too. Whether they realize it or not. Because in their misunderstood existence, in their unwarranted actions, in their irreversible mistakes, the kindness of the Sibling Mafia seems to be far more powerful.  This is a story about a world full of bullies and the four kids who never stop fighting them. One act of love, kindness, and hope at a time...

[msilwrites]

(A 3AM Update) A True Gentleman, Chapter 19 - Taking back her life

A/N: Hi guys, Chapter 19 is up! Some lighthearted comedy here and there too. Not really much of a plot device, but we're approaching how to handle the reality of Diana's situation as she tries to take her life back. Tell me what you think in the comments below, and Enjoy reading!

NINETEEN

Taking back her life

Diana looked at the dating app on her phone and read the exchange of messages with her date. After the first time, in a long time, she was finally going out on a 'date'.

The guy who she had been chatting with seemed kind enough. In fact, she had chatted with him for a few weeks before even deciding to go out with him. She definitely does not want some asshole. Once bitten, twice shy. She has learned her lesson after all the years of being in an abusive relationship.

Again, sadly, she left the house through her bedroom window, not wanting to see Isaac. It had been weeks since they have seen each other. The only thing she heard was his voice and the sound of his footsteps around the house. In fact, he tried knocking on her bedroom door, only to be met with silence. She had been pretending to not be around for some time now, and the only time she talked to him was through phone messages, telling him that she had already paid the rent.

His attempts of communicating further were also met with silence on the other side of the line. If he was lucky, she would give him a late response as she was determined to cut herself from him emotionally.

**********

When Diana arrived at the place that she and her date agreed upon, she saw the open park theatre filled with orchestra musicians, packing their instruments. It appears that they had just finished their rehearsals.

She looked to her side, and there on one of the benches, seated, was a handsome man, reading through countless music sheets. She walks in his direction and clears her throat to get his attention.

"Maestro... I'm Diana Rutherford..."

**********

It was a funny reason why Diana had agreed on this date in the first place. First of all, it wasn't for something romantic. Her date is actually a music executive, composer and orchestra director who went to the dating app, only to find a replacement singer who can sing opera in alto-soprano for a small formal charity benefit to be held at the park. Second, she needed someone to talk to, and he and she happen to get along well. Nothing more.

Diana, with opera training, and whose voice happens to fall under alto-soprano, agreed, with a bit of hesitation, of course, thinking if this was legit or not. Furthermore, there was a promise of payment, which made her finally give in. Taking on a part-time job was not so bad after all, especially that she needed some extra funds.

"Uhhmmm, how do I address you?" was her first question. Of course, she knows his name. An epitome of tall, dark and handsome, he carried this air of quiet respect. So she wanted to be polite.

"By my name would be great" was his reply, accompanied with a disarming smile.

" Alright, Aedan... " she cleared her throat and sat up straight.

"Well, I'm just curious, what were you doing in the app with a fake profile? You don't look like you needed to do that" he states, seeing that she was nothing like the way she describes in her profile.

"I was looking for someone to date... no erase that, I was hoping for someone to talk to... the app was a convenient tool, especially, with the anonymity that the internet provided, but then I found you and that weird ad/ profile of yours." was her straight and honest answer.

He laughs at how honest she was. "Can't you afford a therapist? " he asked playfully.

" I can, but I can't afford to book a session with him every day... that will drain my funds" she reasons, and he chuckles at how direct yet funny she sounded.

"Don't you have friends?"

"Of course! I have friends! But..."

"But?"

"But I can't possibly worry them enough and stress them out. I can't be dependent on them for everything. There are also some things I can't discuss with them, you know? there are limits..."

"Like how you had been in love with their father for a long time?" he adds, remembering that she mentioned this to him before when they chatted in the app.

" Yep... see how that sounds like? 'Daddy Issues'. I mean I do admit, I have that. I will definitely get disowned by my friends if those issues come to light..." she sighs. "Oh, by the way, where are your other singers? and why did you have to find a singer using the dating app?" she adds.

He sighs, " One is currently busy with her children, a few of them preparing for their final papers, the others are currently overseas, travelling, no one is available on the date of the performance..."

"Oh... yes, that is a problem..." she nodded in agreement. " But why the app? It's unconventional..." she reasons.

He laughs " It's unconventional, but it was fast and it worked! I found you! You do realize that the app isn't only about dating!" he says, referring to the 'social' part where you find people or groups of like-minded people.

"Err... so do you plan to continue dating ?"

"No... I've deleted the app,"

"Ha? But why?"

"I didn't like some messages I've received from some..." he said, shaking his head and feeling the hair on the back of his head, stand. It creeped him out just remembering those inappropriate messages.

"Well... I can only imagine..." she said, understanding that he must've received some 'thirsty' messages that anyone will be uncomfortable reading, due to how attractive he is.

"Why did you click my profile?"

" Well... obviously, I swiped right because you're an attractive man... you look like a clean-cut version of 'Ross Poldark', other than that, I would have not talked to you, if not for what you've written in your bio."

" I like your honesty!" he declares and threw his head back laughing.

"Thank you..."

"Did you really have opera training?" he asked, still in doubt.

"Yes, I started during the sixth form, my grandmother sent me to lessons to build my confidence and voice...It even became my elective back in university... Then I joined choirs, sang oratorios... so on and so forth... I sang with the choir in church and there were times I sang part-time as a soloist in some events. I enjoyed those times, "

" What made you stop? Singing I mean?"

"I... I..." she paused for a moment, finding a clear way to explain what happened. " I got into a relationship... "

"Let me guess... he was either possessive or abusive?" he guessed, already knowing which was it.

"Both actually... he didn't like me being looked at when I sang... I guess he wanted the audience to close their eyes during a song..." she recalls, remembering the incident with her ex, Jesse.

Aedan laughed and nodded in agreement. Hearing such situations wasn't new to him. He had a few incidents before where a soloist came to a rehearsal with a black eye. Abusive people demand the victim's attention solely focused on them, and try to cut off the victim from the activities they love.

"I do hope you are no longer with that man... I don't want another soloist coming to a rehearsal unable to sing properly because she is injured... don't get me wrong, I may want the performance to be perfect, but I do care for people, and I do feel the pain when I see such situations..."

"Yes... don't worry, I've broken up with him a long time ago," she assured.

"Good!" he exclaims and after a while, remembers something and looks at his watch. "Rehearsals resume in an hours time. Let's have lunch, and we will test your voice later"

**********

"What made you want to sing again? If I may ask?" Aedan said, waiting for the orchestra to return to their seats.

"It's just... I want my life back, Aedan... I just want to go back to what I used to be" was her answer, and he understood.

"Alright..." Aedan taps his baton on the podium, signalling everyone that they were about to start rehearsal. He calls in another person, and another man enters the stage.

"Diana, this is Max, your duet, Max, this is Diana, your new partner!" Aedan introduces.

Diana looked at Max and her mouth hung agape in admiration. if Aedan is handsome, so is Max! Tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome, bearing a fleeting resemblance to Hugh Jackman. She smiled, and giggled to herself, thanking her lucky stars for being surrounded by handsome men today. This would definitely be a good step to move on.

"Diana," Max stretches his hand out for a handshake and she gives them a tight squeeze, whilst smiling like a schoolgirl at him.

"You can ogle at him later, all you want, if you pass the 'audition', Diana!" Aedan teased, earning him a grimace from her. He chuckled at her reaction but quickly asked her to stand straight and get ready for vocal warm-ups.

Aedan sits adjacent to the grand piano and plays the keys for the duet to warm up. After the vocal warm-ups, he goes back to his podium and the orchestra sat in position.

"We have a tradition in this group, every time there is a new singer... as a welcome, she is to sing-" Aedan waves his baton and the began to play the introductory part of the song 'Libiamo ne' lieti calici' which was followed by Max baritone voice, singing the first verse and turning to Diana with a smile.

"How appropriate," she smiled, knowing that it was quite a welcoming song and felt the excitement in her heart to sing once again. And when her turn came, she took a deep breath and without hesitation and care of the possibility of singing out of tune, she gave it her all.

When the song was about to close, the orchestra plays increases their tempo, so as the two duets and then together, they hit the high note with their voices, closing the brindisi.

Diana catches her breath, it was definitely a struggle for her to hit the note, how long has it been since she sang? Years. However, she was met by applause by the orchestra musicians, her duet partner, and the director, Aedan, which came to her as a surprise, because she knew she didn't hit every note right.

"Welcome to the group, Diana!" Max smiles, giving her a squeeze in her hand.

"Thank you, Max!" was her response.

"Welcome to the group, Diana! you've missed a note here and there, but I believe that can be improved with practice" Aedan says, as he approaches. The way he said 'practice' already scares her.

**********

"Oh, my, my, Diana! you are glowing, recently!" Mrs Chambers greets Diana as she goes back to her reception area after lunch.

"Thank you! But what do you mean glowing?" she asked, a little bemused.

" You lively! Happier?! no longer gloomy liked you used to be, no offence" was Mrs Chambers direct answer.

"None taken..." she smiles, knowing that Mrs Chambers has a point. She looked like a pale, gloomy flower.

"Is this a new skincare? beauty routine? activity, a new man?"

Diana laughed at the last part of what Mrs Chambers said. "No, unfortunately, not a man... It's probably because of having clarity of the mind now," she said, knowing that Mrs Chambers was also aware of the past depressing incidents that she had gone through.

"I am glad for that!" Mrs Chambers smiles at her.

Earning the clarity of the mind was one of the things Diana was grateful for. Especially now that she was trying to take her life back.

She looks at her schedule on her phone. On Thursday evenings, she takes JUDO classes, and on Friday evening and Saturday afternoon were rehearsals and additional training with Aedan. He wasn't kidding when she told her how strict he is. Heck, he knows when one didn't practice the song. There was a wee bit of regret in her for agreeing to take JUDO classes and joining the orchestra as one of their singers, especially now that she had to follow strict discipline. But gratefulness, enjoyment, and the contentment it gave her overweighs the regret.

**********

Diana enters the restaurant and looks around for Aedan. He told her that they would meet at this restaurant which was, near her office, before they head for practice.

She smiles and waves at him, upon seeing him seated at a table near the window. He smiles back and waves at her to come over.

"Hello, Aedan"

"Good Afternoon, Diana! I sure do hope you practised the song."

"Ahehehe... I did!..."

He narrows his eyes on her.

"I swear I did!, though it was a struggle, I made sure I did, every day! In full voice!" she says in her defence.

Aedan laughs. "Don't worry, I understand, you don't want your 'crush' to hear you singing! By the way, do you still leave the house using your bedroom window?"

She looks at him sheepishly and that look she gave was enough to answer his question.

He throws his head back laughing. "Oh, Diana! How are you going to leave the house on the day of the performance? Do you want me to rescue you from the tower and fight the dragon?" he teased.

"What the heck! Aedan! Dr. Skovgaard isn't a dragon!"

"I never said that!" he says, hand up in surrender, still laughing.

"Diana?!" a familiar voice calls her name, she looks around to find Allegra seated at the nearby table.

"Allegra!" she greets, a little nervous, as if she was a little girl caught in a misdeed.

"You're here! I haven't seen you in a long time! Look how glowing you are!" Allegra says, echoing the same thing Mrs Chambers had said and gives her friend a tight embrace. "You wouldn't join us for dinner, what have you been up to?!" was her next question.

"Ahehehe..."

However, before Diana could think of an answer, Allegra turns her attention to Aedan. She looked at him suspiciously which made Diana nervous.

"And may I know who is this? care to introduce me to your new friend?"

"This is Aedan, Aedan, this is Allegra, my best friend..." she introduces, and Allegra immediately takes the seat beside Diana, still looking at the man suspiciously.

Aedan beams at her and stretches out his hands, offering Allegra a handshake, which she took.

"Hi, I'm Aedan McInnes... Diana's date" he says, followed by his disarming smile. Knowing that Diana didn't want to tell anyone of her current activities.

"What?!" Allegra's eyes widened in shock. "Since when? You've never told us anything, Diana!" she says, turning to Diana.

"Oh! it's just recent! I didn't want to tell anyone because everything happened just recently! Plus, I didn't want to worry you, also... Aedan's a great guy!" she reasons and gives the grinning man a quick glare.

"I see... well... Of course, I'd be worried about you, and Aedan, what do you do?" was the beginning of Allegra's interrogation.

" I am a music producer," was his reply, which is part of the truth.

Diana sighs, as the interrogation continued.

**********

"Out of many things you could think of! Aedan! you told Allegra, that you're my date..." was the first thing that came out of Diana during the rehearsal break. They were almost late for rehearsal because of it. "We barely made it out of there!"

However, the only reply Aedan gave was a hearty laugh. "Tell me, Diana, what are you exactly worried about? By right, we are not doing anything wrong,"

She paused for a moment and thought about it. What was she worried about " I... I don't know... Dr Skovgaard finding out?" the reason just carelessly slipped out of her lips.

"Aha!" Aedan exclaimed, causing Diana to jolt in surprise.

"What?"

" You're worried about your crush finding out!" he declares.

" Wait...what? I said that?! I-"

"Diana, look, you should not worry, in fact, you should be glad! If your Dr Skovgaard reacts, then it means he cares for you!"

"Of course, that man cares for me! I told you he sees me as his daughter! "

"Uh, uh , uh, that will depend on how he reacts!" he adds, making her a little hopeful. However, she knew that it was impossible.

**********

It was a Sunday when Allegra met her father for brunch. She excitedly jogs upon the small staircase that led to the front door of the restaurant. She had been wanting to tell her dad what she had recently found out.

"Woah... Allegra, what is all this excitement about?" was the first thing Isaac said to his daughter, the moment she arrived at their table, looking a little too excited. He chuckles and calls for the waiter, thinking that it was some sort of good news.

"Guess what I've found out yesterday dad!" her tone and expression turning into 'worry'.

"What is it?"

" Ross Poldark! he's dating her!!" Allegra declares. Describing how Aedan, her friend's date yesterday, has a fleeting resemblance to the character.

"Wait... what? " was his reply, unable to comprehend what his daughter was saying.

" Diana is dating again!!" she declares, clearer this time.

Isaac's expression changes from 'worry' to something darker. Which his daughter didn't notice as she continued telling what she found out.

A/N: I probably made some grammatical errors here and there, so I'd do some soft editing from time to time. Why do you think Isaac's expression darkened? tell me what you think in the comments below.

Also;

Brindisi - is a drinking song.

A number of Opera Singers / Choral Singers / Soloist / Orchestra Musicians have day jobs.

My face claims were; Aidan Turner and Hugh Jackman for Aedan and Max (Because Hugh can sing). I also want to assure you, they're not rivals of Isaac, but plot vouchers for the next chapters. These characters are there to give clarity and support to Diana.

[wincore]

troublemaker | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 6.9k

prompt: anonymous sent: hello! Could I request with an au with either bad boy yangyang or jaemin thank you so much !!!

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff

warnings: mild language and mentions of a bunch of juvenile things, possible character inaccuracies 

a/n: as these aus go, he’s not really a bad person he just.......does a lot of.....questionable things.......and he’s............pretty annoying.........

and this got weirdly long, but enjoy!

Your first mistake was to assume Liu Yangyang is just shy.

When he walked into the classroom, with a smile you perceived as nervous but still as wide and sweet as can be, you thought he’d be pleasant to deal with. Looking past the dark clothing and a peek of a tattoo on his neck (you never really believed in judging books by the cover), you thought he was funny even, the way he spoke and the way he stood. You might have even thought he was cute. He didn’t talk much the first day, barely any polite conversation either, and that was what led you to believe that Yangyang is just shy, or introverted. But you were quite wrong, you figured out eventually.

New kids don’t make a reputation as fast as Liu Yangyang did. He found friends in the troublemakers at the back of the class, sooner or later unravelling what you would label as an obnoxious personality; and now he walks boldly through the halls, says whatever comes to his mind, and overall, he’s as tame as a wild horse. His smile, which you might have thought was cute at some point of time, now looks more of a devilish grin to you, only making an appearance when he’s making a joke at your expense, talking back to people he shouldn’t be talking back to, and all the other things that make him unpleasant. He lets his tattoos show in full view, and while you find the vines curling up his neck fascinating, you’d rather be dead than caught staring.

Despite Yangyang’s obvious connections with the devil, everybody adores him. Every time he walks through the hallways, you can almost hear your fellow classmates sigh out ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s. It’s embarrassing to you, the way he’s allowed to have his way when he obviously doesn’t deserve it. He’s the very epitome of bad influence, and wherever he goes, trouble follows. It’s not uncommon for him and his gang to get into fights, as you’ve noticed them running through the alleyways at the dead of night from dangerous looking thugs, their laughter disrupting the quiet neighbourhood. (It’s confirmed when he shows up to class with bandages wrapped around his bleeding knuckles and bruises blooming along his jaw.) Vandalizing isn’t off their to-do list either and the one time you caught Yangyang spray-painting a yellow rose on the school wall, he pulled you into a quiet corner, putting a finger over his lips before you could say anything. He left with a wink, not a word of explanation escaping his lips.

You especially hate the way Yangyang treats you. You don’t know what you’ve ever done to him, in the year and a half you’ve known him, but he’s taken it upon himself to be the bane of your existence. Every time you see the sadistic little shit, you resist the urge to turn around and skip the class altogether. And you would have, if it weren’t for your fear of failing the class.

“Hey!” you’re greeted with widest grin from someone who shouldn’t be sitting in your place.

“That’s my place,” you state bluntly.

Yangyang clicks his tongue, but he doesn’t move, leaning further onto the chair, resting his chin upon his arms on the headrest.

“I know that,” he says, tilting his head.

“Get off,” you say, absolutely unprepared to deal with this right in the morning. You can already feel a headache creeping onto you, as if the one in front of you isn’t enough already.

But he doesn’t move, no, and he has the audacity to smile and command you to “say please!”

You groan, and by this time the rest of your class have already turned their heads to focus on the two of you—a daily source of entertainment they probably won’t lose very soon.

“Yangyang,” you begin, “please get off.”

Yangyang frowns. Perhaps he was expecting you to flare up as usual, keep up the squabble. Whatever he thought, it doesn’t matter now when you’re too tired to deal with everything, especially him. He gets up reluctantly, and mumbles something your ears aren’t tuned enough to catch, and when you look at him, he’s not really looking your way. Whatever, you tell yourself. At least it’s a more peaceful morning than usual.

But it’s also strange to not have his voice, a tad too cheery, dangerously close to getting you riled up. He likes interrupting when you speak, full of useless opinions, doesn’t let you leave class without at least one stupid comment on how you look, making you feel a little sick in the stomach sometimes at how awkward he makes you look, and the purpose of his existence seems to be heaven’s way of testing you. When you asked him once, by the corridor long after classes had ended just what exactly his problem is, he seemed at a loss for words (highly unusual) and pretended to think, dramatically placing his fingers under his chin.

“Because I think you’re neat,” he said with a cheeky grin before turning and leaving with a wave.

You never really understood what he meant, and you’re still trying to figure it out. Maybe he needs someone to pick on, and even if he doesn’t do anything dangerously harmful to you, there are times when he just gets on your nerves. He doesn’t have to blow up your test tube in the chemistry lab, or throw shredded paper bits at you in the corridors, but he does anyway. He doesn’t have to tell you, you look like a seal when you arrive late and disgruntled to class, but he does. He doesn’t have to yell ‘catch!’ with barely a second for you to react before hitting you in the face with a basketball, he doesn’t have to suppress his laughter at you for getting tears in your eyes after getting hurt, but he does. You might have even forgiven him for all these things if he were your friend, but he’s not and that’s the whole point.

Despite everything, Yangyang still holds his childlike innocence. A trouble child, is how you’d describe him—only doing these things, these socially unacceptable things, for attention, for fun, or just to act out, and not to be mean in particular. Even in his appearance, his teasing, his movement, there’s something outrageously innocent. Maybe it’s his bright smile, the genuine one, that reminds of you of sunflowers, not cigarettes or motorbikes, or the tint of his cheeks in winter proving him wrong when he’s adamant on not getting a sweater because he doesn’t need it. Maybe it’s how he looks like a boy laying on the grass in the nearby park all alone with his eyes closed, letting the afternoon sunlight play with his hair and lashes. (You totally weren’t staring, and you totally didn’t run away when he noticed you.)

You didn’t mean for your daydreams to progress into thoughts about a guy hellbent on ruining your days, but when you snap back to reality, class is already over. You catch yourself sighing at yet another wastage of class time when you promised yourself you’ll focus on the subject more. You get up sluggishly, but you’re met with Yangyang staring intently at you. You’re sure nothing of worth is going to escape his mouth—he talks too much sometimes, and you need to get to the next class.

“Wait,” Yangyang scrambles after you, while the rest of his group snickers.

“I’m going to be late,” you tell him and excuse yourself, barely sparing him a glance. It’s not unusual for you to ignore him, but you know he’s going to be extra annoying the next day.

You think it’s just your luck to trip down the stairs, and scrape your knees right after all the classes are over. Thankfully, there was no one around and while your knees burn like crazy, you get home just fine. The blue skies harbouring dainty afternoon clouds and the cool breeze are a little too upbeat, and you feel yourself anticipating summer break with a sigh of relief.

Your afternoon nap has you revaluating your life choices, and you greet the reds and purples of the sky with a feeling of regret. Your to-do list for yet another day has been thrown into jeopardy. You probably won’t be able to sleep tonight until it’s too late and your sleep schedule is going to be off for the entire week, not to mention the dark circles you’ll end up with. As you feel yourself getting worked up, an uncomfortable feeling rising in the pit of your stomach, you end up wasting some more time much to your aggravation.

Most of the days, you don’t even know where your time goes. It’s like you’re not you, you’re not the same person during the day or the night or any hour you have in your grasp. It feels like watching a timelapse video of a person who’s not you, and being forced to accept that it is, in fact, you and you’re not very happy with that, to say the least.

By the time you begrudgingly take out your notebooks to prepare for your upcoming tests, a task far too daunting for a poor soul like you, it’s already the dark hours of night. You grimace at the topics you don’t understand, and consider procrastinating some more—maybe you should check the newer memes your friends sent you, or fall into the never-ending spiral of videos, or finally start the books that you purchased left unread on your shelf. But no, your fear of failure won’t allow you to, and neither will the sense of responsibility you might even have come to pride yourself on.

Neither of your two qualities, however, prepared you for a sudden turn of events. When the neighbourhood should be asleep, you hear rapid knocks on your windows and you whip your head around to face it. The curtains are drawn, and fear creeps in—what if it’s a murderer? A thief? A grotesque monster to bring back your childhood fears?

You take hesitant steps towards the window when the knocking gets violently loud. You’re afraid that whatever is out there might shatter your glass, calling for your neighbours’ attention. Before you can regret it, you draw the curtains to find a frantic Yangyang, whose eyes widen at your appearance. He turns his head around once to check something and looks back at you, gesturing wildly for you to open the latch. You gulp and do as he says, and he immediately climbs in. His footsteps are a little heavy and he closes the windows again, before reaching for the light switches and plunging your room to darkness. He glances outside the window once again, possibly noticing something as he pushes you against the wall beside the window, his hand over your mouth to ensure you don’t spill the obvious questions, or a scream. You stay like that for a few minutes, a few agonizing minutes that you spend glaring at him.

Yangyang peeks through the window once again and sighs in relief, falling to the floor with his head in his hands. You gape at him, a little dazed from this sudden appearance while he rests on the floor of your bedroom.

“Uh,” you start wisely.

Yangyang whips his head towards you, finally remembering your presence and the fact that this is your bedroom.

“Uh,” he responds, springing back up and moving his arms to accompany his explanation. “Sorry about this. Really sorry. I didn’t even know this was your house! I—”

“Yangyang,” you rub your temples. “Get to the point.”

“Well. We…kind of got into trouble, and I’m pretty sure those thugs had knives and I didn’t want to die today, so.”

“What?” your eyes widen. You move to the window, and reach for the curtains but Yangyang grips you by the arm.

“What are you doing?!” he whisper-yells. “Do you want to die?”

You realize the situation and gently tug your hand back.

“Oh,” you say, “well what about- what about the rest of your friends?”

“It was just me and Renjun,” Yangyang explains, “and he’s pretty good at hiding so I’m not too concerned.”

“Okay,” you nod, absolutely not comprehending the odd circumstances.

“Really?” he asks with a sudden half-smile, “Aren’t you even a little bit worried about me?”

Yangyang takes a seat in your chair, arms sprawling over the armrest. You furrow your brows at the return of Yangyang from school, and wonder how he’s the least bit concerned that he could have been seriously wounded, or even died today.

“Are you serious?” you say before rolling your eyes and turning on the lights.

Yangyang laughs, a sweet tone contrasting his black sweatshirt and ripped jeans, as he leans further back onto your cushioned chair.

“Get off my chair,” you scowl.

“Oh, come on. We’re not at school.”

Yangyang crosses his legs and throws his head back to further his exaggerated comfort, and it does nothing to help your deepening frown.

“Alright, get out of my room,” you tell him as calmly as possible.

He sits back up straight with wide eyes. “What? You want me to go out there- out there and risk my life?”

You put your head against your palms and sigh. You can’t actually kick him out—he’s right, it could be very dangerous and it just doesn’t settle right with your conscience to do such a thing.

“Now, you don’t have to be dramatic,” Yangyang says, a playful note in his voice.

You sit on your bed facing him and unable to do anything else, you just glare. Yangyang smiles at you, like you’re holding his favourite candy or something of the sort, before he glances down and his lips are suddenly pulled into a frown.

“Did you scrape your knees?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

You look down, a little surprised, and nod at him with an awkward ‘yeah’.

“And you didn’t even clean it?” he chides.

You don’t think Yangyang is in any position to be scolding you, but you can’t come up with a response either. To your surprise, he rushes to the washroom despite your protests and brings in a wet handkerchief to gently dab at your knees. You hiss softly at the initial contact and he stops to look at you before getting to clean it again.

“You do not want an infection, trust me,” he says, “I ended up with a fever.”

You giggle at his foul expression, and he seems to light up, a smile quirking the corners of his lips.

When he’s done, he stands back up and feels his pockets before taking out a bunch of Spiderman band-aids. He notices you staring at him a little too intently and tilts his head.

“What?” he asks, “I get scratched up a lot.”

“No,” you say, “Spiderman.”

“Well…I’m not judging you on the ridiculous amount of soft toys you have but go off I guess.”

You let out an amused laugh and he stares at you momentarily before his face breaks into a bright grin. He remembers the band-aids with an ‘ah’ and gingerly places them on your wounds.

You’re a little caught off guard at his sudden display of kindness and you end up staring at him, following the movement of his lips as he proceeds to talk about how he’d got into the mess in the first place. He keeps oscillating between different topics, frequently getting distracted to describe the one cat he seems to be enamoured with or how he’s still mad at Renjun for being able to run faster, and you can’t comprehend how normal your relation with him suddenly seems.

“You’re being nice,” you note out loud, and realize a bit too late, your ears and cheeks turning pink.

Yangyang tilts his head, a little confused but responds nonetheless, “Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do. Besides, I owe you.”

He shrugs and you smile back, letting yourself accept everything for once. He shoots off about some vague topic once more, and you wonder how you ever thought this boy was shy, too quiet even. You don’t know why he’s suddenly so friendly with you either, why he’s talking to you so much, without any hint of teasing or malice—maybe he just needs someone to tell all these things to, and you’re the only one around. But Yangyang has a way of making you feel somewhat important, even if you think you’re not. You can hardly pay attention to his words when you’re so engrossed in taking in his details—the honey hair brushing his eyelids, the curious curl of the tattooed vine at the base of his neck poking from behind his jacket and the very noticeable bruise on his jaw, the way he keeps jerking his head to the side when he needs to rethink and how he does have a cute nose, like what the girls in your class say. For a moment you try to stop thinking about it, noticing all these things—after all, he’s the sort of person you don’t think can ever bring good news. But at the same time, he’s a different person when he’s talking like this, a rather positive, happy one when he has no prying eyes or hushed whispers surrounding him. It makes you rethink a bit.

Yangyang leaves by dawn, having eaten away the better of your time. But he leaves you feeling a little different, that perhaps you had misjudged him, despite believing that you’re not someone to do so. It makes you a little uneasy but relieved all the same. That perhaps the universe isn’t all that cruel even if it did just horribly destroy your sleep schedule.

“You know, just because I let you in once doesn’t mean you can come in any time uninvited.”

You look at the boy sitting at the ledge of your window, with no obvious intentions of leaving. Yangyang pouts but he isn’t able to contain a smile, and he swings his leg over the ledge to enter properly and stand in front of you.

“I have something to show you,” he says, his words merging with each other.

“Now? At midnight?”

You’re a little unsure as to where this is going, but Yangyang has been popping in at random for the past few weeks in spite of your various displays of annoyance. Sometimes, it’s to ask you for help in physics (“Why do you need my help?” “I don’t know why you expect me to be good at physics.” “I wouldn’t if you didn’t yell the answers from the back of the class.” “…whatever.”), sometimes it’s to display his generosity by treating you to ice cream (he likes making fun of your taste for some reason, saying it’s childish) and sometimes, he just talks—in sudden bursts of words, but he talks.

“Yes!” his vocal inflection makes him sound desperate, and you know you’ll have to give in.

Yangyang grins at your defeated ‘alright’ and climbs out the window, telling you to get ready as quick as you can.

“Why do we have to go out the window?” you complain.

“Are your parents okay with you going out at midnight with a boy with tattoos?” he remarks.

You shut up and follow, carefully feeling your footing and balancing yourself before landing on the pavement with a soft thud, Yangyang gripping your waist to steady you. The contact makes you blush involuntarily, and you look anywhere but at him to avoid any comments.

Yangyang seems to be in a rush as he runs ahead of you, jogging in one place to show his impatience. He looks like a child, not the least bit intimidating like tries to be, especially towards the freshmen with his glare and all. You wonder if this the real Yangyang, the one he only lets his closest friends see.

“I hope you’re not dragging me into doing something illegal,” you call out.

Yangyang shakes his head, knitting his brows together, “Of course not!”

He doesn’t let time slip away though as he grabs your arm and starts running at an inhumane pace, with you struggling to keep up.

“The place closes at one, we have to hurry!” he notifies.

And you won’t admit but you think you enjoyed it. How long has it been since you’ve felt the wind in your lungs? Or been reckless like this? How long has it been since you’ve felt the prickle of the cold night, or race time itself? You don’t know, but you end up smiling after stopping to regain your breath.

You look at the vivid blue exterior of what seems to be a coffee shop, but the dried flowers lining the door make you reconsider.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Yangyang smiles at you.

“Why did you want to bring me here?” As much as a part of you wants to think of Yangyang as a friend, his reputation and past experiences precede him.

“I thought you’d like it,” Yangyang frowns.

After a pause, you softly say, “I do.”

He immediately seems to brighten, and opens the door a little too loudly, the ‘BANG!’ making you cringe. There are barely any customers, but it does draw the attention of the man behind the counter.

“Two drip coffees!” Yangyang says, upbeat despite the disdainful expression on the man’s face.

He pulls you into a seat, and starts talking again, this time about his old dog and the times before he became rather juvenile—painting on cars and private property, getting into fights with people three times his size or just straight up pissing off the police only to run from them. You don’t know what he does them for, what he likes to act out for and it’s hard to believe the boy in front of you, talking brightly can be the same person your school adores and fears at the same time.

“You know,” Yangyang says, his voice suddenly growing soft, “Thanks for listening.”

“Huh?” you look at him inquisitively.

“People don’t like me talking,” he says, glancing down at his fingers with a nervous laugh. “And I’m sorry. If I was ever too mean to you.”

You think out of all the things he says, he doesn’t actually say anything. It’s just incidents and events, never really feelings or what he thinks. You feel a little guilty too for resenting him so much if all he wanted was a companion, a chance to show what’s beneath the painted exterior.

Coffee tastes delicious at around one in the morning, but it also means you won’t catch a wink of sleep tonight.  

“Do we have to walk?” you complain, out in the barely lit streets of the city.

“What’s wrong with walking?” he says, turning towards you and walking backwards.

“It’s making me tired. Don’t you have a motorbike or something?”

“Are you stereotyping me?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow and pointing at the racecar tattoo on his wrist.

Your shoulders shake with laughter as he breaks into another grin.

“Let’s go to Walt’s,” he suggests after a few minutes of aimless walking.

“I don’t drink,” you say, grimacing at the idea of bars and drunk people and throw up, and whatever else you knew from movies.

“Me neither,” he shrugs, “I just wanna dance.”

“Really? Of all the crimes you commit, you decide to leave out underage drinking?” you ask, amused.

“I don’t like the taste,” he defends, “Are you stereotyping me again?”

You suppress a smile and follow him to the bar, which you really feel you should regret. But you don’t, and when you’re greeted with the purple and blue neon lights at the entrance, you’re admittedly curious as to what it’s like inside. It’s not surprising that Yangyang knows where the secret entrance is, or that he knows a few of the bartenders, who he seems to have charmed already.

But the noise through the speakers is really blown out of proportion as you try to make out the gibberish people talk around you. You hold onto Yangyang’s jacket, for fear of getting lost in the dense crowd and you wonder how people make time at this hour and come all the way to drink and dance. The flashing blue lights illuminate Yangyang’s face occasionally as he pulls you through narrow gaps to a relatively quiet corner, with less people cramped in.

“There’s also a ballpit in the basement but I almost broke my arm there,” he says. “And I never really asked if you like dancing before bringing you here. Do you like dancing?”

You take a moment to decipher his quick words and shake your head, saying you’ve never really tried.

“Never tried dancing?” he repeats incredulously, “Everybody has tried dancing.”

“I don’t think dancing in my room counts.”

“That’s exactly what counts,” he says before grabbing your hand and rushing to the dance floor.

“Like this!” he yells over the music when he notices your stiffness. He proceeds to do the silliest dance move you’ve ever seen, raising an arm upwards and the other at a right angle, legs going anywhere they want. You end up laughing too hard, clutching your stomach as he tries another pose.

It’s not about looking cool here, it’s about enjoying wholeheartedly despite being swallowed inside a crowd. It’s about looking at yourself and being able to laugh off your insecurities, and you think maybe this is why Yangyang does the things he does—to laugh, to make memories to laugh about. It possibly runs deeper than that, but it’s all you can think of at the moment, grinning and laughing like friends do.

Yangyang drops you home, in your room, safely, when you become too sleepy to continue, even offering you a piggyback ride.

You can only mumble a ‘thanks’ as he makes his way to your window, turning at your voice.

“Thanks,” he tells you too before leaving with a wave.

It’s a little odd to not have quarrels with Yangyang at school (although there’s still the occasional ones where he starts it on purpose) and your classmates are a little in awe at the casual conversation you manage to have with him, even smiling at each other.

“Are you sure you’re not hiding anything?” your friend narrows her eyes at you. “Maybe about the thing between you and Mr Troublemaker?”

“There’s no thing,” you glare at her. “Is it that unbelievable that we can speak normally?”

“Obviously,” she responds, “why else would everyone be ogling you?”

You groan and place your face in your hands. This is not the reputation you’re aiming for, but a rather obscure, perhaps ugly part of you isn’t upset, it’s glad even. You suppress the feeling and scowl at nothing in particular, hoping the rest of the day passes quickly enough.

It’s terribly unusual to be greeted by Jaemin at the school gates, eyes twinkling like he knows something you don’t. You’ve no idea of what he’s like except he’s Yangyang’s friend and a flirt, and you’re bound to get your heart broken if you ever find yourself catching feelings. You quirk an eyebrow when he calls your name and smiles sweetly.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi…” you drawl out. “Do you have anything to say?”

Jaemin pouts. “Can’t I just start a conversation?”

“You can, uh,” you say, a little unsure.

“You know you’re going to be in trouble if you get too involved, yeah?” he says, focusing on his fingers and stretching them, getting to his point rather quickly.

“Sorry?” you ask, a little taken aback.

“I’m guessing Yangyang hasn’t said anything yet?”

“Said what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jaemin shakes his head, a shadow of a frown threatening to take over his pleasant expression.

“Just warning,” he says, “You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“What’s up?” a voice interrupts, and Yangyang appears by your side, his dark red t-shirt glowing under the sunlight. You’re weirdly relieved to see his face, not sure why.

Jaemin doesn’t delight him with a response, and instead laughs and pats him on the back. It’s a little strange to see Mr Troublemaker and Mr Heartbreaker (as your school has regrettably nicknamed them) in one place, although they’re part of the same group of friends. As far as you remember, they’d got off at the wrong foot in the beginning, but eventually warmed up, getting closer than ever.

“Enjoy your date,” Jaemin teases, and waves.

Before you can protest that you weren’t exactly notified about a date with anyone, Yangyang puts an arm around your shoulder, obviously displeased and mutters a ‘whatever’ guiding you far from the school entrance.

“Uh, Yangyang?” you ask, stumbling over your steps.

He stops for a few brief seconds and asks, “did he say something weird?”

“I don’t think so?” you say, unsure and trying to replay the rushed conversation you had with Jaemin.

Yangyang shakes his head, a little antsy, and starts walking, expecting you to follow.

“Where are we going?” you ask, before the word ‘date’ flashes across your mind and you blush a brilliant red, trying to make the thought dissipate as quickly as possible.

“I don’t really know,” Yangyang says, pausing to think, “Do you have anything else to do?”

“Even if I did, would you let me go?” you cross your arms.

Yangyang grins and gets back to walking without a sound, you trailing behind him.

“The arcade?” you crane your neck to read the dull red letters above the entrance.

“It might not look like it but it’s actually one of the best,” he says, signalling you with a thumbs-up.

You should’ve known it was a bad idea when Yangyang decides that hitting your head with the little basketball is more fun than hitting the target.

You clutch the back of your head, glaring at him while he laughs at your expression. You were already disappointed with neither of you being able to get the plushie at the claw machine, having wasted enough money on the retries. And Yangyang thinks it’s funny how you look like an ancient Chinese warrior when you’re focused. He’s incredibly good at the racing game, and you knew you’d lose in the few starting seconds. But you did score incredibly well at the shooting game, perhaps your best achievement of the day. The basketball game, however, Yangyang seems to take as a joke, more focused on throwing you off course than his own score.

Yangyang freezes mid-laughter when he glances behind you. You turn your head to find a burly man, painted head to toe in ink, and just looking very dangerous in general, especially with the glare he keeps.

“Oh crap,” Yangyang breathes, “No, no, no.”

“What?” you ask.

“Wait for me outside a bit,” he instructs.

“Why?"

He scratches the back of his head. “Just…like that? I’ll be out in a minute, please.”

You comply in a daze, simply because he’s said the word ‘please’. For someone who talks a lot, he doesn’t exchange polite words very often, he didn’t even explicitly thank you for letting him into your room that night, instead opting to show you gratefulness through treating you at random (when you say random, you mean random).

You kick a non-existent stone, leaning on the wall beside the entrance. It’s been quite a few minutes and you’re getting worried if Yangyang actually had something to do with scary mountain of a man. You wouldn’t put it past him, the fights and all, but really, is this the time?

As you chew the inside of your mouth, a sudden dash of red appears in front of you, grabbing you by the hand and sprinting off. Yangyang looks back at you for a fraction of a second, and you see him almost smiling. The gruff voices behind you accelerate the rapid beating of your heart and you run faster, not entirely focused on your steps. The pavement proves difficult to run on, but it’s the burning in your lungs that causes you to stop in an obscure alleyway. The daylight seeps in through the crack between the two massive grey buildings, and you breathe heavily behind the steps to the fire exit of one of the buildings. Yangyang peeks through the corner and runs back to you, steps as nimble as a cat’s.

“You’re not gonna like this,” he bends to face you doubled over, still trying to breathe. You don’t comment on the busted lip, or the scratches across his jaw as he explains that you’re going to have to climb the building right now and also hurry before you get into serious trouble.

The stairs end one storey below the roof and Yangyang jumps to get a hold on the edge, and you’re sure the roughness of the concrete is going to leave scratches on his palm. Once he’s up, he spares a quick glance to the side, and grits his teeth before bending to grab your arms and pulls you up with much difficulty. You trip a little when your foot hits the edge of the rooftop, making the both of you lose balance and you land beside him on your knees, while he does so in a sitting position. You make eye contact, and Yangyang can’t help the smile stretching across his face, although he flinches a little. Before either of you can erupt into laughter, he presses his hand against your mouth, effectively stifling any noise and manages to keep himself from laughing. You lie flat on the roof, his nose a few inches from yours as you wait for the shuffling and shouting noises from below to dissipate.

You breathe out a sigh of relief in sync with Yangyang, glad you’re finally rid of your pursuers.

“Are you going to explain to me what just happened?” you ask, sitting up.

Yangyang sits up beside you, bending a little, making his hair fall over his eyes. He manages a half-grin while your concern shifts to his bleeding lower lip, and you involuntarily reach for your handkerchief.

“You don’t have to,” he says, shying away from your hand. “I didn’t mean to…uh…bring you into this.”

He looks at his fingers, and you notice the red scratch lines on his palm.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “It was fun.”

“Right?” he whips head towards you. “No one believes me when I tell them I like doing these just for fun!”

You giggle before gently dabbing at his lip, greeted with a sour expression.

“What was up with those guys?” you ask, focused on applying the correct amount of pressure to swipe.

“I…we…uh, kind of used to play here without paying. And he’s related to the owner, so…”

Your expression turns into a displeased one, and he sheepishly smiles, promising you he paid this time and will pay at wherever you want to go. Your cheeks start getting hot at how casually he talks about taking you places, like they’re actual dates. You tell you should head home and apply some antiseptic to his lip, before it gets worse.

“It’s alright,” he says when you’re done cleaning the wound, “I’m used to it. I don’t really wanna leave right now.”

He gestures towards the sky, which has started to merge reds and blues at a purple middle. It eventually fades to orange and dimming yellow, and you can see the sun start to dip towards the buildings in the horizon.

“I like it here,” he says, dipping his head towards the side.

You glance at the warmth spreading across the sky for only a few moments, before you’re distracted by the boy beside you. The sunlight brings out the pools of honey in his eyes, and you suddenly can’t deny the secretly growing affections for the boy, or whatever it is that you feel. The mole on his left cheek calls for attention as the lighting makes his skin glow, although the scratches disturb its softness. The curious vines peek from behind his shirt again, and it looks like a sort of companion of Yangyang’s, enjoying the sunset with him.

“Did it hurt?” you ask, distractedly.

“Huh?” he turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “I actually get punched pretty often so no- wait- gosh, that was embarrassing to say. I just mean—”

“No, I mean the tattoo,” you clarify.

He forms an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Not really. I mean, kind of? Less than what I thought it would, to be honest. People always ask me this, but I can’t really answer it, you know?”

You nod, trying your best to understand.

“I got this one with my friends,” he brings down the collar to display the full tattoo, which covers most of his collarbone and shoulders in pretty curls and windings of grapevines.

“And this one, I got first,” he says, pulling his sleeve up to show the racecar tattoo once again. “Mum was so mad, but she accepted it eventually.”

“Oh?” you smile.

“Yeah, she’s always been a little, I don’t know, strict? She believes that life should be lived through rules and following them, just caging yourself in blind beliefs—I mean what’s the point of that?”

Yangyang sounds irked, so you just hum along.

“Living blindly, delusionally—it’s better to be reckless,” he scrunches his eyebrows, looking you in the eye as if he expects some response as his words flow out bitterly.

“Is that why you do that? To feel?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Yangyang chuckles and lies down on the floor of the roof, resting his head on his folded arms while his hair parts to show his forehead. He looks very relaxed, more so than at school or anywhere else, really.

“I’m sure,” he starts, “that on the last day of my life, when I think of all that’s happened, I’ll have a lot of things to think about.”

“Didn’t know you thought that far ahead,” you interject.

“It makes me feel at ease,” he half-grins at you.

That’s when it strikes you. Life has never been about staying alive to Yangyang, while you have trouble distinguishing between the blurred lines of today and tomorrow. He’s not that difficult a person—just an extremist at worst, and simply a boy overall. He makes himself out to be tough to handle, lets himself be reckless, and of course, reckless attracts trouble. He wants something whole from a broken universe, and maybe you did guess right—he wants a friend, someone to listen to him. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s horribly optimistic, in fact you’re drawn to it in a way you can’t explain. He’s starting to make sense and you can’t contain the bubbling excitement in your chest at the development.

“Yangyang,” you call, softly.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you like telling me these? These things about you.”

“Feeling special?” he jokes.

You slap his shoulder gently, saying, “Come on, tell me.”

“You look like someone who listens,” Yangyang says, eyes following yours. “And I thought I was obvious…”

His voice trails off and he looks down at your lips, before tilting his head at an angle and leaning just right so your noses don’t bump into each other. You can only shut your eyes in panic, the beating in your heart getting louder when his breath falls on you, the smell like peppermint. The moment your lips touch, a soft feeling momentarily settling in, he winces back and both of you are suddenly aware of his injury. You blink once before bursting into an amused laughter, and you can see the corners of lips into a familiar feline smile.

“You are so stupid,” you remark.

“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?”

“Tell me why you think getting your lip busted would please me.”

“…That wasn’t part of the plan.”

He scoots closer to you till your shoulders touch, and you hardly pay attention to the setting sun and the calls of the homeward birds. He tilts his head too, to gently let it touch yours and you feel him smiling.

“In my defence, you’re terribly dense.”

“Me? Dense? How?” You turn your head and cross your arms.

“I took you on like three dates and you didn’t get the hint!”

“What date?!”

“I took you to my favourite coffee shop!” he says, shoulders hunching up. “And the bar, and the dog park, and the arcade!”

“You never said they were dates,” you grumble.

“See? Dense.”

You hit his shoulder again, but he laughs, not even flinching now.

“Fine,” he says, “Will you go on a date with me tomorrow? At the amusement park. 11am sharp.”

“As long as you fix that busted lip,” you chide.

“Why? You wanna make out?”

Your cheeks flare scarlet and you can almost see his ego swell with the smugness that shows up all across his face. Even so, you’re satisfied how you really did find your way to the core of him, and more so to be pleasantly surprised. Night falls, and the stars come out to play, but Yangyang makes sure to keep his focus on you.

“I knew it,” your friend remarks as she eyes your fingers intertwined with Yangyang’s.

“Don’t start again,” you groan, taking your place while Yangyang smiles smugly.

“Hope you know how to play with fire, darling,” Jaemin calls from the back only to be greeted with a smack across his shoulder by Yangyang.

Fire, wind, whatever Yangyang is—you don’t mind. Because every day is different from the other, and memories remain even after the day ends, especially if the memories were this troublesome to make, and fun to experience.

[living-dead-parker]

Day 2: Charity Event - P.P (12DOC)

Summary: The big Stark Charity Event is here. Along with it comes big confessions of love, more annoying and entitled men, a new unlikely friend, and more background on when the reader and MJ dated? Also, Morgan is a lil badass in the making.

Warnings: Fluff, so much fluff. Cussing, plenty of it. Entitled rich men, because why not? Creepy skeevy dudes, we’re trying to make this realistic y’all. BAMF Stark reader, a bit of violence, but it’s not graphic nor bad.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: I know this is late, but I did have a gap in my scheduling for this, so I replaced it for this last update. I’ve been busy, but I should be more present now. Also, this gif is not mine! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist 

"So, run through the schedule?" Tony asks you. Pepper is too busy on the phone at the moment.

"Soundcheck the stage at 4:00 PM. Doors open at 5:00. Start the event at 6:00," you say as you pull your phone out, already having memorized that far into the night. "Commencement speeches from Pep, Dad, and myself until 6:30. 6:45, a message from the Avengers, live music from 7:00 to 8:00 while everyone grabs food and drinks from the buffet and bar,"  you read off. "Then from 8:00 to 9:00, we have the choice dances. 9:00 t0 9:30 we have the auction. 9:30 to 10:30 we have the socializing hour to allow everyone to talk and do as they please. 10:30 we have the final big tree auction and the closing speeches. Everyone leaves at 11:00. Shut down at midnight."

Everyone takes an audibly deep breath at the same time. Then, in sync, you all let it out. It's gonna be a long day. It's barely 9 AM, but there's still so much to do ahead of time. So, with that, you all run around like headless chickens getting shit done. It's not till 2 PM that you're all done. So that means, it's time to start getting ready. Like always, you had to help Morgan get herself ready. However, now that she's older, she sort of knows how to do most of it. So, you throw her in the shower and let her hang out for a while as she gets herself clean. In the meantime, you and Peter begin getting all your stuff ready.

It's 3:30 when you jump out of the shower and rush to put something- anything- on. You throw on a face mask and let it sit for a few minutes before taking it off. Then four o'clock comes around and you run to the venue to do soundcheck and test the mics. You're only there for ten minutes, testing the mics and the speakers, greeting the live musicians, and checking in with the staff. However, you make a run back to the tower and up to your room to really start getting ready. When you get back, you see Peter has laid out all your stuff. Your makeup, your hair stuff, your dress is still in the bag but that's fine.

"Thank you, babe!" you exclaim as you take a seat at your vanity and start on your hair. You manage to straighten out your hair, you do a toned-down, subtle, red and green look. Then, you put on a long, dark green, velvet dress with long sleeves. You throw on a white coat with faux fur. By the time you're all done, it's 5:40.

"How do I look?" you ask Peter, turning to look at him and smiling. He's in a black suit with a green tie. His hair is slick back except for the two unruly strands that always fall to his face. His face is clear and he looks so good. Then, you two look at yourselves in the mirror, standing proud and tall together. "We look really good," you tell him. You both take some pictures together before deciding to go to the venue already. You wait in the backstage area with Pepper and your dad. Peter and Morgan went to go sit at your table. Then finally, the time came and all three of you came out.

"Good evening!" you three say excitedly into your mics. Pepper is the first to step up and do her speech, followed by Tony. Then after fifteen minutes, it's your turn. You greet the crowd, earning cheers from everybody. It's obvious you're the most liked Stark. Then it's Pepper. But most of it has to do with the fact that you did no wrong to anyone in the room, besides the Wesley's who happen to be here again this year. Besides that, everyone thinks you're the cool young Stark kid who is taking the business in a fresh direction. "It's been my dream as a kid to make a name for myself. Yeah, I have the Stark name to thank and there's no denying that. But, I wanted something of my own. Something I made, so having made my Charity event was a huge deal for me. Combining it with Pepper's event was a no brainer. It was easily the best decision I've made," you explain before diving into the thank you's.

Then you sit down next to Peter as a video the Avengers made begins to play. It shows home footage of the Avengers helping people out and saying thank you to all the donors. It ends in time and Pepper announces that the buffet and bar are open and to enjoy the first live band of the night. You go wait in the line of the buffet so you can grab some food while Peter goes to grab his friends and bring them with you. In the short amount of time you're alone, a very familiar set of faces stroll up next to you. You almost visibly roll your eyes.

"Y/N Stark!" Jeremy Wesely exclaims as he holds an arm out. With a fake smile, you take his hand and shake it. "Ah, you've grown so much in the past year!"

"Mr. Wesley," you speak out loud, pulling your hand back. "Adam," you acknowledge, taking his extended hand and shaking it. However, he has another idea when he pulls your hand close to his lips and presses a kiss to them. The action takes the woman next to him by surprise. She seems older than him. Not by much, but she seems older.

"Y/N, this is my girlfriend of six months, Anette," Adam states, revealing a beautiful redhead with a gorgeous white dress. Her green eyes stand out. "Anette, this is Y/N Stark, the 20-year-old taking the business world by storm," he states. Your brows furrow confusedly, finding his wording so weird. Who just says that totally unwarranted or without needing to? Nonetheless, you hold your hand out to the woman and her hand loosely and without any care shakes your hand. She doesn't like you for some reason.

"It's so nice to meet you, Anette," you tell her, being genuine nonetheless. "I love your gown, it's so gorgeous and festive," you tell her. Adam steps in and his father does too, pushing Anette to the back.

"So, Y/N, Wesley Inc. has an offer that Stark Industries just cannot turn down," Jeremy states. "It's a moneymaker for sure!"

"That's great, Mr. Wesley-"

"Call me Jeremy, otherwise it feels way too formal!" he states. Adam chuckles, keeping his eyes glued to you. It's kind of weird, he was already 20 when you were 17, he'd been crushing on you since then. It's gross and weird. "But seriously, we think it'd be interesting if Stark Industries used our massive textile portion to create your clothing line!"

"Clothing line?" you ask, not sure what he means. "Do you mean our line of protective gear?" you ask.

"The cool neon jackets and the stylish coats," he states.

"Yeah, that's not a fashion line, Jeremy. It's protective gear for extreme weather and for people who work or live in extreme conditions. The thought is nice, but we have a group of people who work hard to ethically source and produce these items as much as possible. Plus, we've already moved ahead with our partnership with Princess Shuri of Wakanda on adding Vibranium to improve the gear. It'd be a loss to us at this point, but I'm sure we can collaborate on other ventures," you explain. Halfway through that explanation, Peter, MJ, Ned, Harley, and Morgan show up behind you.

"Well, maybe we can set up a meeting to discuss," Adam cuts in, trying to be subtle as he glares at Peter. "There are so many ideas, it'd be criminal not to collaborate."

You chuckle rather fakely as Jeremy and Adam burst out into deep belly laughs. "Oh, haha, the only thing criminal here is your tax evasion," you say through fake laughter, but it goes unnoticed by the two men. Adam stands straight and looks at you. "Well, it was a pleasure to speak with you again, Y/N," he states as he reaches for your hand and kisses it again. "Yeah, real pleasure speaking to you again. Have fun and enjoy yourselves," you state before turning around to face your friends.

"Have they left?" you ask them as you grab Peter's arm and wrap it around your shoulders. Peter chuckles, pressing his lips to your temple. MJ nods, laughing a little. "God, they are so annoying!" you explain. "He thinks he can talk to me like nothing and convince me to be with his predatory son after he attempted to threaten me last year. Ugh, Adam Wesley is the epitome of entitled frat brat who likes to prey on younger girls."

"He sure looks like it," Harley states, looking over at the two men at the bar. "Isn't he the one who invited you to the frat party when you were 15 and tried kissing you the whole time and you called me all angry because he was mad you punched him?"

Through a giggle, you nod. You remember that night so vividly. You didn't feel like you were in any danger, and this was before you'd met Peter. You had always been able to take care of yourself and you really showed Adam that night. Since then, you'd pretended not to know him.

"Adam Wesley, is the least of my problems tonight, alright? I'm here to have fun with you guys," you state as you pick up Morgan and hold her on your hips. "And to collect money for charity. So let's get some food and eat."

After another ten minutes, you finally grab some food. At one point, Pepper snuck you a drink or two to help loosen you up a bit and make you feel more comfortable. It worked, as you felt more fluid and not as stiff by the end of your second drink. You even took a shot and called it a night on the drinking. It was just enough to get you to stop being on edge and stressed. However, eventually, nine rolls around. Pepper jumps on stage and announces the choice dances.

As per usual, your line was pretty long. The longest. Longer than Tony's. You won this year. But as you look at the line, did you really win? It's full of old men, teenage boys, and the occasional girl who you're sort of friends with. Are you really winning? It's kind of weird, in retrospect, but you ignore it because you can take on anyone in that line if you have to and it's all in the name of charity. So, Adam steps forward, being the first in line. Looking over, you see his girlfriend, Anette, first in line to dance with your dad. That makes you cringe.

"Y/N, fun dancing with you again," he states rather smugly, handing you some money for the dance.

"Sure is, Adam," you state, rather fakely. You put the money in your bra.

"So, how are things with that boy of yours?"

"Why do you constantly feel the need to disrespect my fiance?" you ask. Your eyes widen at the slip and you're so glad your head is on Adam's shoulder and he can't see your face. "Every time we see each other, you're always saying something. about him. I'm not leaving him for you."

"Fiance?" he asks. He pulls away slightly, still dancing with you. He grabs your hand and doesn't see a ring. So he grabs the other one and sees the small gold band with a small diamond on it. "Oh sweetie, that's merely a promise ring. Unless itis the engagement ring, which if it is, I can do so much better. I can buy you a whole rock with smaller rocks sprouting from it, babe."

"Don't call me babe," you nearly growl. Adam's eyes widen. "Plus, is it any of your business how I wear my ring? The size of the ring doesn't matter anyway, it's the thought that matters. Peter loves me and he bought the ring with that love in mind. He may not be some rich tall guy, but he's my best friend and he loves me for me. Not just for my looks. He loves me for my imperfections and my flaws. He's sweet and he's caring and he understands me in ways you wouldn't even begin to understand. Plus, he's not a creep. Try as you might, but Peter is my soul mate. He's the love of my life and that's that. So if you're gonna keep talking about him, we're really gonna have a problem-"

"You're so cute when you get angry-"

"Don't make me fucking punch you again," you tell him sternly. You lean in closer to him, bringing your lips close to his ear. "I will make your life hell if you keep attacking my Peter. I will make you eat the shit you talk, I will make you worship the very air I let your breath because you'll miss it, I will make it rain hellfire over your for the rest of your life if you keep talking your shit," you tell him, adding emphasis to every threat. The song nears its end and you press a kiss to your hand and slap him with that hand. "You're so cute when you're angry, but your song's up, Adam. Merry Christmas, doll."

He walks away and is quickly replaced by Peter. You giggle as he hands you two dollars. He giggles when you put the money in your bra. "So, how's my girl doing after dancing with the devil himself?"

"Oh after that dance," you speak as you pull away enough to look at him. "He probably thinks I'm the devil," you finish. Peter laughs, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "But on a more serious note, I may or may not have told him you're my fiance. A Freudian slip of sorts, but just expect that to get out soon," you say. Then you press a kiss to his cheek before sending him off so you can give an actual donor a dance. You didn't even get to see his reaction.

The dances go on for some time before they're over. Pepper announces the auction portion and you see an easel being placed on the stage. Then there are ten covered paintings in total being placed on tables on the stage. There is also one of the trees, the smaller of the two, and a pair of custom made gloves of yours you wore when fighting and taking down a Hydra base. Your dad realizes the creeps in the industry and he plans on capitalizing off of it for charity. Obviously so long as you're okay with it to some degree. You don't care, because you can take any of these men down if you really wanted to.

In the distance, you hear someone exclaim a curse word, but you think none of it. That is until Morgan is running up to you right as you're about to get on stage to help Pepper and Tony auction off some items. She tugs on your dress, catching your attention and trying to climb you.

"I heard the creepy Adam guy talk about you and how you were being mean because he was being annoying," she states. You giggle as you hold your little sister close to you. "So I kicked his leg because no one is mean to my big sister but me," she continues. Your eyes widen and you interject loudly with a call of her name. "And he looked mad, so you gotta hide me."

"Thank you, Morgan," you tell her sincerely as you try not to burst into tears of laughter. You set her down and kneel in front of her, grabbing her shoulder. "But you don't have to kick people for me. That's not very nice," you tell her. "I appreciate the thought, and that's really badass of you, but you don't have to fight everybody who says something bad about us, but I'll teach you those battles later okay?" you ask her. She nods, looking down at her hands. "Look, M, he's not gonna hurt you. I promise he will not hurt you. He's too scared of me to do that. Plus, I think you showed him how you can take care of yourself. Now go with Peter and the others for now, okay?" you ask.

Morgan hugs you before running off to where Peter and all your friends are sat, talking amongst themselves. A big smile tugs at your lips when you see Morgan tap Peter's shoulder and Peter's expression turns into such a big smile. The slip earlier feels like it shouldn't be a slip. The sight makes you feel warm inside as Morgan climbs onto Peter's lap and snuggles into him while Peter holds Morgan close.

With that, you walk onstage and greet everyone. Then you stand by the painting that sits covered on the easel, center stage. There's a screen the projects it bigger into the room. "This first painting," you state as you uncover it, revealing a painting of a scenic Winter Wonderlandesque scene. "By local artist, and one of my dear friends, Michelle Jones titled Mid-Western Winter Wonderland begins at 100 dollars," you state. Someone yells 1,000. You repeat and the numbers get higher and higher. "20,000 going once...going twice...sold to bidder number 52!"

The painting gets carted off and set aside to be labeled for the bidder. Your dad takes over, revealing a picture you'd taken of a very busy and Christmasy New York City. The bidding started at 100 and two men kept drawing it out. Adam and some guy you barely recognize named Scott. Tony grows tired, but goes on and lets them fight it out. Then Scott calls out, "200,000 dollars," nearly 4 times as much as what Adam previously called out. Adam screams, "300,000!"

Scott stays quiet and your dad finally calls it an end and sells it to Adam. The auction continues with selling four more of MJ's paintings, two fo Steve's, and two more of yours. The Scott guy took home the other two, which personally, you felt were better than the first picture. Oddly enough, the Scott guy also took your gloves too. The Christmas tree was sold off for a hefty 900,000. It makes you really hopeful about the outcome of the other one.

Now that the auctions are over, it's time for the socializing hour. In an attempt to get to Peter, you run into the Scott guy. He's a tall and lean man, almost like Steve but less bulky. Black hair, sharp green eyes, well-groomed facial hair. He's a gorgeous man, but not your type. Not your Peter.

"Y/N Stark," he calls out, a smirk on his lips. Nope. Definitely not. You and Tony are the only ones who can approach people and smirk at them. He holds his hand out and you courteously take it, shaking it firmly. "I'm Scott Stephens, soon to be CEO of Albright Enterprise. It's so nice to finally get to meet you," he states as he gets a good look in.

"It's nice to meet you too," you state softly. "Surprised my father hasn't kicked you or any of Hammer's men out," you joke, earning a laugh from the man. Hammer Industries and Albright Enterprise are your Stark Industries' rivals. Thought the truth is, SI is hard to dethrone as number one at this point. Well, unless Shuri decided to get into the field, but instead, she's offered her allegiance as a third party entity to help SI rather than totally capitalize on it. How nice of her.

"Well, it's all for charity, right?" he asks, to which you nod. "I wanted to hand you these," he says as he pulls out the gloves he'd bought for nearly a million dollars. "It was creepy to see all those men bidding so high to get your gloves and I know any of them, especially Adam Wesley would have kept them. I find that wrong and creepy, so I want you to keep them."

Your eyes widen, a genuine and dumbfounded smile taking over your features. You grab the gloves, "Thank you, that means a lot," you tell him softly. He shrugs, and you pick up on the first wave of nervousness. He's getting shy and the big cocky guy facade begins to fall bit by bit.

"Look, I know that to others it can seem I might have ulterior motives talking to you, and I'm sure you thought so too," he states, shrugging his shoulders. "The tabloids love stating I have this huge crush on you, and while you are beautiful, that's not it. I've been watching this share of power between your father, Ms. Potts, and yourself for the past four years like everyone else, and although I am like two years older than you, you're someone I look up to. You handle this life with grace and honestly, I'm terrified to be CEO of the company. I'm so scared, but I see you in world stages and conferences and you hold your head so high, despite being a woman in this field and you don't take shit from anyone. It's a sight for sore eyes and I'm in love with it. Basically, I see how lonely being a CEO can be and I see how you have it all and you give it all too, and I hate the idea of having to compete with others. I was thinking, maybe we can be actual friends. Not just for pictures, but actually get to hang out and talk to each other and be in each other's lives. I just think you're amazing and I know you have a boyfriend, and I respect that a-"

"Hey," you cut off his rambling at this point. You giggle, resting a hand on his arm to calm him down a bit. His face is red and he's not as composed as he was before. He takes a deep breath and chuckles. "I get it, It's tough. I read up on you and saw that you stopped pursuing art just for this and I get it. But you shouldn't have to quit your dreams for this. You can indulge in both, I promise. Plus, I'll be more than glad to be your friend and help you navigate this whole business thing. Admittedly, I'm still learning things too, so I'll be happy to share this journey with you. We can definitely squash all this fake beef because honestly, I think it's stupid too. I should get back to my friends, but you can join us if you'd like," you offer.

"Maybe later?"

"It was nice meeting you Scott," you tell him before walking away. You're left utterly surprised but totally happy. You just hope he's as real as he came off because, in this industry, nothing is off-limits. When you arrive at your table, everyone greets you and they notice the gloves in your hands. "I was just talking to the bidder who won these and he gave them back because he thought it was creepy, to begin with. He turned out to be the soon to be CEO of Albright and we really hit it off as friends. He was so nice and not creepy."

You notice Peter's face, slowly forming into one of confliction. "And he wasn't flirting with me nor was he interested in me in that way, so it was a breath of fresh air," you add, giggling as you press a kiss to Peter's cheek. "Plus, totally not my type."

"And what is your type?" MJ asks, teasing Peter by sticking her tongue out at him. You giggle, looking between her and Peter. Remembering that at some point, you dated her. "Apparently," you being. "People with brown curls, brown eyes, and soft skin," you say. The two look at each other, bursting into laughter. "You do have a type, huh?" MJ asks.

"Oh shut it, we only dated for like two months. Anyways, he was nice and wants to be friends because and I get him. So, expect some guy to come around a bit more often. Platonically!"

The final tree eventually gets sold for a million dollars and then everyone left. Now it's midnight and the only people left in the hall are Peter, a sleeping Morgan, Harley, Tony, Pepper, and yourself. Tony walks up to you and hugs you, holding you so close to him. "You did amazing tonight sweetie," Tony states. "Plus, I hear tensions between SI and Albright might be coming to an end in the near future?"

"I think people just like me better," you tell him. He pinches your arm playfully, causing you to giggle. "But in all seriousness, Scott is a great guy and I really do see myself in him. But I know to take it with a grain of salt too, dad."

"I trust you and your judgment," Tony tells you. "I just want you to be careful in this world. By the way, I totally feel like I've been pimping you out tonight especially with the glove thing, so apologize for that. It felt wrong," he states. You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thanks, father. I appreciate that."

He bids you a good night and walks over to Pepper, pulling her into his arms. You walk over to Peter and Harley, seeing Harley carrying a very tired Morgan. Tony walks over and takes Morgan with him and with that, you all exit the hall.

"So, fiance?" Peter asks you as the two of you walk through the snowy pavement. "A slip?"

"Freudian, if you will," you joke. Peter wraps an arm around you, smiling when you wrap an arm around him. "But I mean, that's what the promise was for, right? That at some point, we will be engaged because we do see ourselves getting to that point. I can't deny that I have strong feelings for you, Pete. I know that we don't need each other. Realistically, we don't. We want each other, and I think that's more romantic than needing each other. Needing implies we have no choice, but we do. We chose each other and we continue to choose each other despite the fact that we don't have to. You're it for me, you're all I want."

Peter stays silent, but at the moment, he doesn't need to speak. Just the way he pulls you in tighter, the way he holds you close. The way he rests his head on yours. It all speaks for him. So, the two of you walk in silence and he carries you to your bedroom, where he sits you on the cabinet in the closet and undresses you again, helping you into your pajamas as you grow more tired. He changes into his and carries you into bed and the two of you doze off with dreams of kissing under the mistletoe and dancing to the nutcracker or some Christmasy shit. Holding each other close and indulging in each other's warmth.

Send in feedback, asks, or requests please and thank you!!

[generaldevi]

Prognosis

Chapter 7: Giving in

Rating: Mature Pairing: Law x Luffy

Characters: Roronoa Zoro, Nami, Monkey D. Luffy, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Usopp, Donquixote Doflamingo (mentioned), Donquixote Rocinante (mentioned, Dr. Kureha (mentioned), Sanji (mentioned)

Warnings: References to Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Dependency

My part for the @lawlu-events BigBang 2018/19

The story got illustrated by the awesome artist @novicecomics

“Zorro! Nami! Usopp!” Luffy called his friends, while waving with his free arm. “Got him!” He flopped down on the free chair, pointing to the other one next to him. “Sit down Torao!” He cheered, grinning broadly. “It took you longer, then I expected” Zorro said with a smirk, scrutinizing the other one. Luffy had a talent to get what he wanted, whatever he wanted.

“Yes, I was starting to wonder, if I should have betted against Nami!” Usopp said with a little nervous laughter. He still felt weird around the doctor. He had a weird aura to himself. Something Usopp could not put his finger on. He was calmer than the first time they met, though. If Luffy trusted the doctor, he would do so too (even though a little bit of caution would harm nobody).

“Sadly, you did not~," Nami said with a playful sigh, before smiling at Law. It was a warm smile. She could very much understand how the other must feel. It was always weird being the new one to a group of people, who already knew each other and were close friends. “Do I want to know what bet this was?” Law said in a gruff tone of voice. He already guessed it was about him, and he was sure, that he would not like to know… whatever it was about.

“Nami wanted to bet, if I get you before the trip ends! But no one wanted to bet against her!” The voice of Luffy was cheerful. “Nami never loses a bet! If you want to keep your money, do not bet against her! Or play with her!” “Oi!” Nami raised her fist. “Do not warn the new one!” Now the chances of milking the new one for easy money were gone. Damn Luffy being nice and social.

“You took out enough people on this ship already! No need to also take out one of us!” Zorro said, before looking at Law, who seemed rather confused.

“You! Silent! I did not forget how much money you still owe me! You understand me?! One day I will come to your apartment and snatch all your liquor and sell it!” “No way!”

“Are your friends always... you know... like this?” Law said. One moment the others seemed like typical adults and the next second they acted as if they were bickering teenagers. They all seemed to know each other very well.

Envy.

Friendship.

He despised it. He missed it.

“Yes! They are funny!” Luffy hummed and looked over to the dining area. “The evening buffet opens soon! I am starving! I want chicken, pork, the lobster…” Law frowned. How could the boy be starving? He had witnessed what the other one devoured for lunch! He shook his head. “Get used to it.” Zorro leaned back in his chair, observing Luffy and Usopp for a moment, before closing his eyes. “Wake me up, when the buffet opens. I wanna get at least some meat before Luffy eats it all!”

Somehow Law got the impression that this was not only a figure of speech but something must have happened in the past. “Oi!” Luffy grinned. “It is not my fault! They should not name it All-You-Can-Eat if they only have a limited amount of food!”

Usopp grinned. Oh god. He remembered the face of the poor cooks and waiters. He pitied them. The way the waiters face had twisted in surprise, disbelief and horror.

“I am pretty certain they did lose a week worth of profit with you. You ate for ten people at least.” “Nami did not have time that evening! I had to eat for her too!” “As if I eat that much!“ Nami scolded him. “Just because you represent the epitome of a glutton!”

Their bickering went forth and back. Somehow, Law felt himself relax more and more. It almost felt, as if the others were not bothered by his presence. “Oi! Torao! Come on, get something to eat with me! Zorro! Wake up!” Luffy did not wait for an answer. He practically ran towards the buffet. It was half amusing, half disgusting to watch. The word gluttonous Nami mentioned before was rather fitting in Laws opinion. As cheerful and happy as Luffy seemed most of the time, considering food he seemed more like a greedy pig. And he ate like one. He chewed with his mouth open, talked while having his mouth half full. It was not exactly a delightful thing to watch and still… Law was amused. Zorro had started to keep up with Luffy’s eating tempo but gave up promptly after. Usopp had overloaded his plate with food. Law had begun to wonder, why the other one had so much food on his plate, when he ate like an almost normal person. He observed Luffy snatching half of the food, so it made sense… Was it a tribute for their friendship? Apparently. Nami was the only one eating and behaving like a proper ordinary, decent and sane person (at least concerning eating behaviors). The only weird thing about her was the force she used to ram the fork into one of Luffy’s fingers, whenever he tried to steal something from her table.

“Get your greasy fingers off my plate! You do not even like fruit salad that much! Oh Law, I hope you are not bothered by these guys behaviors. They got no manners!”

After talking for a while, she had found out, that his name was Law. She had wondered where the Torao was coming from… since on his name tag was written Dr. Trafalgar D. W. L.

“My family had been rather unique too, so do not worry.” Not so greedy, not so animalistic and seeming like starved people fighting over some fiber… but weird in other… places. Luffy sitting next to him, eating like a maniac (and mauling his food in a way, that Law found some pieces of it, on his own plate), was still better than Trebol with the always running gooey nose. Disgusting…

“Oh your family? You mean the man from the picture?”

With a quick swipe of his tongue, Luffy fetched the piece of chicken sticking to his lower lip. Even though he seemed focused on eating, he had watched and observed Law the entire time.

“Yes. Father, well-“ Law tilted his head a little bit. “Adoptive father.” Law loved Corazon, had cherished him … but it still felt inappropriate to say, that Corazon had been his only father. The few memories he had about his blood family. Law was fond of these fragments of happiness and joy.

“Adoptive or not. Family is family.” Nami smiled softly, blue painted nails clicking against the cocktail glass Sanji had brought her. “True!” Luffy grinned. “Who cares who is born by whom, or whose blood is in your veins! Family is what you feel!”

He nodded before shoving another enormous piece of meat into his mouth. If Laws thoughts were not occupied by the family talk, he would probably wonder if Luffy had a gag reflex at all. He was certain, he had seen pieces of non-chewed meat sliding down his throat. “I guess that is one way to put it.”

Law remained quiet for the rest of the dinner. The way Strawhat looked at him, knowingly. There was something powerful in this look. Determination.

“Come Torao! I show you my favorite place!”

Law looked up with a frown. How could the other one be this active and eager again? How did he have this much energy?! Did he not want to relax after such a substantial meal and relax a bit? Law was pretty sure he could a little bulge in his stomach from all the food. But no, apparently the other one did not need to rest.

“Sure.”

One evening. Their deal had been one evening spent together. Just a few more hours and he could crawl back into his cabin again. He just had to survive this evening. Was it what he desired? Isolation. Loneliness. Luffy led the way through dining area. Once again, he was babbling and babbling.

“We are always the last people in the dining area! The others finish their food so quickly! They eat so little.”

“You are the best doctor here! You took care of my friends.”

“Sanji is our friend too now! He cooks awesome food! Nami likes his Cocktails!”

“The old hag is a cool doctor too! Are you two friends?”

“You are our friend now too!”

“Tomorrow you must try the eel! The way Sanji prepares-,“ “What did you say?” Law had ignored most of the things the Strawhat said. Did he mishear him?

“You must try the eel!”

“No, before that.”

“That you belong to us now!” Confusion was written all over Luffy’s face. Law was acting in a bizarre way. It was clear, that he did not want to be alone, so why did he isolate himself? If he wanted friends, why wouldn't he make any? It was not so difficult! “Don’t worry! The others like you, cause I like you. If Zorro is hurt again in training, I can bring him to you, right?”

Law took a deep breath.

“You know I only accepted the invitation because you kept coming every day to my office. This, whatever you believe this is, it is not a friendship.” “It is!” “… How do you think it will work out, after the trip? Only a few days left. You will go to your place again, and I will go to mine. Are you even living in the same city as I am?”

Probably not. Hopefully not. Hopefully yes. No-, he should not get his hopes up.

“Why should distance end a friendship? I am still friends with Vivi! She was in our class for a year! She is now back to Alabasta! And yup! Same city!” “And why do you think, that you know where I live and work?” “Heard the nurses talking! You work in the hospital in the city I live!”

There was it again. The big, knowing grin. It made Laws toes curl in, and his breath accelerate. Big, knowing grin. Threatening. Dangerous. No. The last two things were not fitting. There was no sheer endless row of teeth, no gum revealed. Eyes hidden. Instead, there were warmth and joy. Law sighed. It felt like he was talking to a wall.

“Awesome.” It did not sound honest, but Luffy did not seem to care.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 1 - Seed and Spark

Harry Styles was kind of a dick. At least, that’s how he acted towards me. You see, growing up down the road from someone should make them care about you--not in some romantic way--just in the sense that our moms started their own book club and our older sisters were inseparable from the age of eight, when my dad’s work had us relocate to the U.K.

You’d think that kind of family bond would make Harry so much as look at me inbetween the moments he was sucking face with my roommate, Quinn, the unequivocal love of his life. But I guess it was kind of silly for me--a girl with a big mouth and an ever bigger ass--to think that he would ever so much as smile in my direction.

When my mother told me that Harry and I would be attending the same university, at first I thought it might be nice to have a friendly face around campus, perhaps even someone to sit with in the dining hall when the tons of new friends I would make were in class or just busy.

I thought that maybe this would be a turning point for us--maybe Harry would see me as more than just the annoying kid he grew up with--maybe he’d even take a liking to me, enough to spend movie nights with me and Quinn or study with me in the library.

But, as usual, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” he said with a monotonous delivery, his back against the wall as he sat on Quinn’s bed, directly mirroring my position.

I sat with my computer in my lap and looked up at him, unsure if he was speaking to me. When I realized that Quinn was nowhere to be found, I assumed he was.

I brought my hand up to my cheek, brushing off a crumb from the chips I’d been eating. I rolled my eyes at him, only mildly offended by the fact that that was the first thing he’d said to me all night.

He looked back down to his mobile, his fingers scrolling as he let out a sigh, “you’re welcome.”

I stared at him for a second, wondering how long he’d been staring at me. I’d been lost in a paper that was due in less than an hour, but the distant hum of water from our bathroom let me know that Quinn had disappeared to take a shower.

Quinn Markos was pretty much your image of a girl who’d been popular her whole life--the kind of girl who probably had a date every weekend and never failed to make the rest of us jealous. Harry had only started being nice to me when he realized I was rooming with one of the hottest girls on campus, but as soon as Quinn seemed mildly interested in return, his kindness was rescinded.

I’m not sure if it was the fact that my blatantly American ways seemed to annoy the living daylights out of Harry, or if it was just that 7-year-old me spent most of our school holidays trying to convince him to ride bikes with me, have a lemonade stand, or do other things that he acted like were the epitome of uncool. But for some reason, the more Harry pushed me away our entire lives, the more I wanted him.

I know, I know. How pathetic can one ex-pat be? Fall in love with your neighbor down the street who wants nothing to do with you? Okay, so maybe that’s the reason I figured going to university with Harry would maybe shift the dynamic between us. Perhaps he’d finally see me as more than just Harper Coleman--the girl with curly blonde hair and hips the size of a flat screen TV.

Maybe he’d see me in this new university student light and be flat out shocked at how smart, funny, and entertaining I was. Or maybe he’d continue treating me like a pesky house fly as he spent increasing amounts of time in my room, only addressing me when I was in the way or when I had something on my face.

Quinn appeared from the bathroom--a towel wrapped around her tiny frame as she smiled at Harry. Quinn and I were friends, you could say. She was nice to me and I was nice to her. Occasionally we’d grab some food together or study together, especially if we ended up in the same class. Despite that, Quinn and I couldn’t be more different, which made us good roommates.

Her long brown hair was straight and always tamed, she was short, standing a few good inches below my 5’8 frame. Her hips were normal sized, she had the perfect nose, and more importantly, she was pretty and funny and cool and she always seemed to have a guy chasing her.

That’s why, when that guy was my neighbor and proverbial childhood crush, Harry Styles, I momentarily questioned what I had ever done to the Gods in the sky to deserve this kind of torture.

It wasn’t until the spring of our first year that she really started hanging out with Harry--and now, only a week into our second year, they were clearly going strong.

“I heard there’s a movie in the first floor lounge,” I said casually, hoping that my desperation for social interaction didn’t strike them as weird. To be honest, for someone as outgoing and loud as I was, making friends at Uni hadn’t been the easiest thing.

When I first moved to the U.K. as a six-year-old, people were much more infatuated with my American accent and blonde hair. Now, I was just another eager girl who--much to my father’s displeasure--was majoring in Theatre and Performance Arts and spending too much money on alcohol on the weekends.

If it wasn’t a Friday or Saturday, most of my time was either spent in class or at the coffee shop in the student center where I worked. If I wasn’t in either of those places, I was at rehearsal for this semester’s play.

The novelty that I had once possessed--similar to that of shiny new toy--had long worn off, especially for Harry.

Quinn let out a sigh and turned to me as she combed through her wet hair. “I think Harry and I were going to just stay here and do some homework--but you should go!”

Harry--who’s eyes met mine at Quinn’s mention of his name--simply nodded. “Yeah, you should go.”

I stared at him straight faced, not bothering to mask my displeasure. He would rarely speak to me, unless it was in an attempt to get me out of the room so he could shag my roommate. I gagged just thinking about it.

“Maybe I’ll stay and finish this paper,” I shrugged, my eyes locked on his as Quinn grabbed some clothes from her closet, disappearing back into the bathroom to dress.

“Will you ever give us some time alone?” He hissed at me, his voice much quieter now to keep his girlfriend from hearing our conversation. He dropped his phone on her bed and rested his head against the wall--dramatically. His hair--which was shaggy and fell just about his ears--seemed soft enough to touch.

“You have plenty of alone time, I go out almost every night on the weekend,” I shot back at him, offended by his accusation. I was proud of the fact that I kept busy--even if that meant closing down local pubs with Millie, the one friend I’d made so far.

“Yeah, asshat,” he rolled his eyes. “We’re out on the weekends too. I mean when we’re just hanging out, you know--when we could get busy.”

“You’re disgusting,” I rolled my eyes at him, hopping down from my bed as I shut my laptop. It wasn’t that I wanted to give Harry alone time so he could sleep with someone other than me--it was more so that I didn’t want to sit here and listen to them giggle all night. Sometimes it seemed that they did it just to annoy me.

Harry--seemingly pleased with my sudden movement and the fact that I was gathering my belongings--smiled at Quinn as she returned from the bathroom, fully clothed. “Maybe we can watch a movie here, babe,” he said as she climbed to join him on the bed.

I pulled an old sweatshirt over my head and shot Harry daggers, but he simply smirked at me in return. Quinn cooed in response as she snuggled next to him.

“Catch ya on the flipside,” I saluted them both before closing the door behind me.

**

Millie reached her hand into the popcorn that sat on my lap, munching away as she stared at the screen in front of us. For a welcome back event, the movie night had a decent turnout, if you count the couple in the back making out and the two first years who sat beside Millie and I.

“I just wish he didn’t pick Quinn, of all people,” I whispered at my friend, who’s hair was up in a bun on top of her head. She was also wearing her pajamas--I was glad I wasn’t the only one.

“Of course he picked Quinn,” she whispered back at me, her eyes still on the movie. I hadn’t been paying much attention--instead, I chose to ruminate over the conversation Harry and I had had--eye rolling included. “She’s pretty, she’s popular--” Millie shrugged and brought her eyes to me.

“She’s not that intelligent,” I continued her sentence for her, causing her to let out a snort like laugh, gaining us glares from the other movie watchers.

I constantly told myself that this entire situation would be different if Harry weren’t being dangled in front of my face like a piece of meat. Had he been dating someone who--I don’t know--didn’t sleep in the same room as me every night, this might have been easier to tolerate. Hell, if Harry were dating someone different, I might not even know about it, meaning I could continue my daydream of the two of us in peace.

“She’s fit,” Millie shrugged. “That seems to be all Harry is concerned with.”

I let out a groan and let my shoulders slump. It wasn’t my fault that I liked Harry--in fact, I’d always felt kind of helpless when it came to my raging crush on him. I remember the first time I realized that he gave me butterflies--right after he pushed me off of my bike in his backyard.

Gemma, his older sister, helped me up but then promptly tattled on him--but when his mother asked if I was hurt, I swore I wasn’t. I didn’t want him to get in trouble.

That seemed to be pretty stereotypical for me and Harry--he’d be a jerk and I would just let it slide, hoping that one day, eventually, he’d realize that he loved me too and we were destined to be together.

I just thought that day would have come by now.

Millie--who didn’t have the slightest clue as to why I was pining over someone who treated me like chopped liver--was always quick to come to my defense should she be present when Harry was a jerk.

One time she told Harry that his hair looked stupid (it didn’t) and one time she locked him out of my room when he went to get dinner. It really was the little things that made our friendship so great.

I’d met her first when I started my job at The Counter--I had just about spilled coffee on a fourth year and got myself fired on my first day, but as we got to know each other and she told me about the theatre group on campus, I knew she was a keeper.

I’d been too scared to join by myself--being a first year and all that--but she apparently knew some of the older kids from a class she’d had and she convinced me to join.

“Still got that paper to finish?” She asked me as the movie ended, the other kids standing to leave the lounge as we sat planted on the floor.

“No, I sent it before I came. It wasn’t a whole 8 pages but it’ll have to do.”

She laughed, sprawling out on her back as she let out a sigh. “Sorry Harry was such a wanker before.”

I nodded, staring off at the rolling credits on the screen even though the lights were now on. “Don’t be, I’m used to it.”

“But you shouldn’t have to be,” she corrected me, her blue eyes watching me closely.

I thought for a second, mainly because I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t ever known a different version of Harry. For as long as I can remember Harry had been the cool one--the one that I was always chasing.

He was the one who didn’t want me, the one who sat as far away from me in the cafeteria as possible--the one who only spent time with me with our mothers arranged a play date. As soon as we were out of primary school, he basically only interacted with me at family parties or neighborhood events. One time he was the only one in the hallway when I dropped all of my books and he just kept walking.

Millie and I parted ways--agreeing to meet for breakfast in the morning before class. I climbed the stairs back up to the fourth floor, grateful that I couldn’t hear Quinn and Harry laughing or whispering as I neared the our room.

I reached for my key in the pocket of my sweatshirt and slid it into the lock, twisting it open.

There was a moment of silence, before I heard “Jesus, Harper!” as I walked in to the sight of Quinn’s bareback as she sat on top of Harry. His voice was annoyed--as it usually was--but I cursed them in my head for not making more noise.

Most people--when they have sex in their shared dorm room--are at least decent enough to be loud in order to not be walked in on.

“Sorry, fuck, sorry!” I yelped, jumping back and slamming the door as quickly as possible. I could hear Quinn chastise Harry for yelling at me, as she often did, but it was no use.

I let myself slide to the ground, slumped against the wall as I tried to wash away the image of Quinn Markos riding the only boy I had ever truly loved.

**

The student center was busier than usual, and the line at The Counter was nearly out the door prior to the afternoon class rush. Luckily for me, I didn’t have an afternoon class on Mondays, which meant I got to spend my afternoon getting yelled at by angry students and forgetting how to properly make a skinny latte.

A little whole milk never hurt anyone.

“That’ll be three ninety-five,” I smiled at the customer in front of me, swiping the plastic card she handed forward. I grabbed her receipt, shot her a smile, and waited for the next customer to look up from his phone.

I would recognize the top of Harry’s head anywhere. I didn’t know--based on how often he avoided even looking at me--if he would recognize me in a green apron and a stupid green hat with The Counter’s logo on the front.

“Hey,” he said quickly, stepping forward to lean on the counter.

“What can I get started for you?”

“Just a large coffee, black,” he said abruptly, his eyes on mine as as I punched a button on the cash register.

I turned my back to him without another word, grabbing a cup from the stack and placing it below the coffee spout. I pressed a button, letting it fill nearly to the brim as I wondered what he was thinking.

“Sorry about last night,” he said suddenly, still watching me closely as I turned around and reached for a lid. I snapped it on, brought the coffee back to the register and handed it to him.

“It’s fine, that’ll be two seventy-five.”

He reached for his wallet and took out a small bill, handing it to me. His fingers grazed mine and I utilized  the calm, cool, and collected face I practiced in the mirror for moments like these.

“Keep the change,” he said with a small smile before walking away.

I stared at his back--momentarily forgetting that there was another customer in front of me waiting to be served. Harry walked with the confidence of a star quarterback--if they had American football in the U.K., that is. He was just as popular as Quinn--I guess that’s why they fit so well together.

“What was that about?” Millie appeared beside me, handing a coffee to a customer and swiping a card on her register.

“I don’t know,” I watched as Harry sat with a group of friends a few booths away, smiling as Quinn cuddled into him.

I’d told Millie about the Worst Moment of My Life, of course, seeing as she was the only person I really spoke to on campus aside from Quinn. She was almost as traumatized as I was, minus the whole ‘one person in this sexual encounter is the person I’m supposed to end up with’ thing.

It had been a while since I experienced kindness from Harry Styles--and not in the usual sense. There were moments where he would say ‘bless you’ when I sneezed or even handed my the salt and pepper in the dining hall when I asked, but that was rather infrequent and never came without a sneer or a grunt.

This--however--the true moment of pure humanity that I just experienced--this was a once in a decade type of thing. The last time I really remember Harry exhibiting any type of emotion rather than utter annoyance towards me was when we were fourteen. Harry had long been ignoring me in school and most of our encounters happened on our walk home (which was often filled with silence) or when we were dragged to family dinners.

I had started dating Fin Devens, a blond-haired boy who’d asked me to dance at a school function and who played on the football team. He and Harry weren’t exactly friends, per se, but they were casual buddies and lunch time pals. Harry--who suddenly took an interest in my dating life--had been telling me for weeks that I shouldn’t date him.

When Fin Devens kissed Maisie Whitley in the park, Harry told him off in front of everyone the next day in school. It only made me love him more.

And it was strange--it wasn’t like Harry was super popular and I was a nobody. I had plenty of friends in school and was voted most talkative in year 6. People always liked me--except for Harry.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded from in front of me, pulling me out of my primary school daydream and back into the crowded student center. “Can I get a tea?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry,” I smiled apologetically at the woman who was definitely old enough to be a professor and reached for a cup.

If walking in on Harry and Quinn resulted in Harry actually being nice to me for the first time in six years, maybe it wasn’t the Worst Moment of My Life.

**

I was never one to turn down a good time. If there was anything I learned in my first year at Uni, it was that I could handle a decent amount of alcohol before throwing up, and that parties in the senior housing complex were always just that--a good time.

Millie groaned behind me, already complaining about the heels she had strapped to her feet. Friday nights at London Metropolitan University were perhaps my favorite part of the university life. Minus Millie and the theatre group, Friday nights were definitely my favorite.

“Come on, stop complaining,” I said to Millie as I climbed the stairs. The elevator, unfortunately, was out of service, meaning we had to climb the 8 flights to our intended destination. Millie let out another whine but picked up her pace, almost bumping into me when I walked right into Harry’s back at the top of the 8th floor landing.

“Oh, hey!” Quinn smiled at me as she turned around to see us. “I had no idea you guys were coming, we would have waited for you!”

“You guys are hanging out with Preston and Katie?” Millie chirped from behind me, the look of confusion on my face was hopefully not as pronounced as hers.

“Yeah, Katie and I are in a biology class together,” Quinn explained, her hair perfectly curled as it fell around her beautiful face. Harry stood with his hand on the small of her back--when I noticed it, I did my best to not frown.

“You’re taking a biology class?” Millie pressed further, still shocked at Quinn’s connections and apparently, her cognitive abilities.

I placed a hand on her shoulder to quiet her. “That’s great! We were at Millie’s beforehand, I should have texted you to check if you were coming out tonight.”

At this, Harry let out a groan and rolled his eyes. If there was anything Harry disliked more than me, it was the fact that Quinn seemed to actually like me. We might not be the best of friends, but she was always more than willing to invite me along on their excursions.

Sometimes I questioned if she knew about the history between Harry and I--I mean, she knew we grew up together, she knew our families were extremely close--but it often seemed like she had no clue how much Harry really disliked me. He never seemed to keep it a secret--but it also didn’t seem like he had outright told his girlfriend.

Harry nudged Quinn forward, Millie and I followed behind as we rounded the corner in the hallway and walked towards the flat. Outside the door were two guys I’d known from a previous class--both smiled and greeted our group as we walked inside.

The flat--which was dimly lit save for a rotating plastic disco ball that sat on the kitchen table--was filled with students from our school, all of whom seemed decently intoxicated and happy to be back for a new school year filled with partying. Music played through speakers near a TV as I scanned the crowd for familiar faces.

Millie hugged a friend from our theatre group beside me as Harry and Quinn pushed through the crowd--heading straight for the kitchen to get some drinks and greet the others.

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounded from beside me as an arm slung around my shoulder. A quiff of dirty blond hair sat on top of Niall’s smiling face. “Didn’t know if you’d come out tonight.”

I let out a laugh and turned to face him. “Would Harper Coleman miss the first 819 party of the year?”  

Niall brought the beer can he held to his lips, taking a sip before shrugging his shoulders. “I guess not--it’s just that Harry didn’t say you’d be here.”

I raised my eyebrows in an unsurprised fashion. “Harry does his best to ignore my existence,” I reminded him, stepping closer to Niall to allow a small redhead the space to squeeze behind us.

Niall Horan was known on campus as a bit of player, in the most charming way possible. Harry met him during our first year, and though I didn’t know him well, I knew he was also always up for a good time. Harry had reluctantly introduced us in this very flat, eye roll included, and Niall proceeded to get extremely drunk and touch my butt every chance he got that first night.

He was cute--and when we first met, I thought that maybe he’d finally be the person to distract me from Harry. But--again--Harper Coleman was terribly wrong.

“Don’t know how he manages to do that,” Niall smirked, grabbing a beer from the hand of another party goer--offering it to me with a wink. “Here.”

Millie--who completely supported my unrequited love for Harry--also totally supported the fact that Niall seemed like he would marry me if I said ‘I do.’ I took the beer graciously, my eyes wandering the room to see where my friend had wandered off.

I spotted her in the corner of the living room with Preston and Katie--the two who currently lived in flat 819. Flat 819 was always occupied by seniors, and it had the reputation of being the best party spot on campus. Preston and Katie, two seniors who were dating, shared the flat with two other friends--Hollie and Niall.

“How was your summer? First week been alright?” He asked, his eyes scanning my face as if he could tell I was somewhat distracted. It wasn’t that Niall wasn’t cute and funny and nice--in fact, he was all of the above. Most girls would be extremely pleased if Niall Horan were showing them attention at the first 919 party.

This girl, however, had her eyes glued to the hand of her betrothed that slowly slid it’s way up and down Quinn’s back as they whispered to each other in the corner.

“Good, yeah,” I smiled back up at Niall, trying my best to focus on him. He returned my smile, his eyes still searching my face for anything. “Would you excuse me?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he nodded, surprised by my sudden shift in attention. I took the beer with me, shirked away from his arm around my shoulder, and pushed through the people in the living room to find Millie.

Katie spoke animatedly beside her, her hands flying in every direction as she laughed. Millie--who was thoroughly enthralled--didn’t notice my presence until I clamped a hand on her shoulder. I apologized to Katie and pulled my friend away, hoping that the bathroom down the hall would grant us the privacy I needed.

“Niall is at it again,” I told her quietly as I flipped on the light switch.

“Yeah? Are ya into it?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed, taking a seat on the side of the bathtub. Millie checked her makeup in the mirror, adjusting the crop top she wore before turning to face me.

“A little one night stand never hurt anyone,” she wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestive manner, laughing when I rolled my eyes at her crudeness. “I’m just saying, you won’t know if you can get over Harry until you try.”

“Who said I’m trying to get over him?” I defended, taking another sip from the beer can as Millie brought her phone up to read a message.

“Okay, well--you know what I mean--swim the sea, realize what else is out there! There’s more to life than a moody kid with poofy hair and a bunch of tattoos.”

I stood from my spot on the edge of the tub, taking another sip and letting the cheap liquid slide down my throat. I didn’t know if Millie was right, but I figured the only way to find out was to keep drinking and to do my best to forget about the moody kid with poofy hair and a bunch of tattoos.

**

“That’s what I’m sayin’ though!” Niall laughed as he leaned against the wall in his bedroom. “This album,” he held up the vinyl in its case and waved it in front of my eyes, “is one of the best pieces of music I’ve ever heard.”

I wasn’t quite sure how I’d wound up sitting on a ratty old armchair in Niall’s dark and dirty bedroom--but I could guess that it had something to do with the drinks I’d consumed and the current MIA status of Millie.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “Unless it’s got a 7 minute power ballad, that just can’t be true.”

Niall threw his head back in laughter, placing the vinyl back down on his dresser. He took a step closer to me and smiled. “You, Harper Coleman, have the biggest set of balls I’ve ever seen on a girl,” he nodded. “Critiquing a band like U2? I don’t know who you think you are.”

“That is quite possibly the best compliment I’ve ever received,” I brushed hair behind my shoulder in an exaggerated moment of confidence. Niall, whose blue eyes didn’t light as much of a spark in me as Harry’s green ones, let his gaze flicker from my eyes to my lips, and before I could stand up to let him kiss me, the door to his bedroom opened.

“What the fuck?” a familiar deep voice sounded as Niall stepped back. I side stepped him to find Harry at the door, his brows furrowed as he took in the sight of me and Niall--alone in his room.

“Can I help you?” I shot back at him quickly, silently cursing the fact that he always seemed to pop in at just the wrong moments.

“Quinn wanted me to tell you we were leaving,” he said quickly, looking from me to Niall before slamming the door behind him, not even giving me time to respond.

“Sorry,” I breathed out, looking back up to Niall--who now seemed thoroughly distracted and somewhat disappointed.

“S’good,” he shrugged. “But I’m gonna go get another beer.”

And with that, he left me in his bedroom, alone with the desire for a spark between us that I knew just wasn’t quite there.

[namelessblacksheep]

WHY WE NEED A REVOLUTION

Growing up I recall a soft drink advert where they used to make the claim ‘the revolution will not be televised’. Given all the crap we see on TV these days I kind of hope that it is.

Don’t get me wrong, a revolution does not have to be a long series of riots or violence. It could be something completely different, but something that leads to a shift. Who knows maybe something akin to a revolution is actually taking place.

The reason I feel we need something akin to a revolution is that bubbling away under the surface of life is deep unhappiness. In the past decade or two so many things have been surfaced that have shocked us.

Across the globe, politics has quite frankly gone bat shit crazy. Unrest and discomfort in daily life are becoming the norm.

We had a global financial crisis that didn’t correct any of the wrongs that underpinned it.

On a weekly basis, we are learning that the people we celebrate and reward so highly, flout their positions and commit heinous harms. Justice is never likely to be served.

Huge corporations and powerful individuals continue to increase the divide between the haves and have nots.

It’s as if all of the rich and powerful have totally forgotten the concept of ‘with great power comes responsibility’. Failure is richly rewarded for some, irrespective of the cost it brings.

The masses though are placated with toys and avenues to keep them from rising up. I have never witnessed such a monumentally awesome age of great television. Fuck the real world problems out there, I’ve got several hundred hours of Netflix marathons to get through.

Then you feel a bit guilty that you are failing in your civic duty, so you decide to send an ironic GIF to Donald Trump – you know doing your bit.

You could cancel your Amazon Prime account and vote with your feet, but then you’d have to wait a few days for your deliveries.

You’d use a search engine to find a different provider, but you like Google. Google knows you so well that when you start typing shit it predicts what you want and you don’t need to hit another key.

It doesn’t scare you at all, not even the fact that you clearly have an Asian babes obsession or some of the suggestions are a bit worrying.

Sure, someone else could get right on that issue. Politicians for instance. They should be sorting this shit out, except they are far too busy trying to pretend to rule the world and avoid answering difficult questions.

Be honest. We are quite simply fucked right now. A revolution might be exactly what we need.

You may be in need of a little more convincing. You know as you are sat there skipping words and sentences for a quick fix that tells you whether this is worth your time or not.

5 minutes of your time, taking you from your busy life. The one where you're a battery plugged into a system that is fucking you every day. At least it all fits conveniently into your phone, I guess.

So, here it goes.

People have become weak

Everybody seems to be offended, like, all of the time. You can’t say shit anymore without someone either correcting you or reminding you of the new rules of engagement that nobody agreed to.

If you are one of these people, don’t be offended when I say that you are total Thundercunt. Seriously, I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

If you came here hoping to find something to annoy you, then you aren’t paying attention. Unplug your earphones and look at the world around you. It’s fucked. You could focus your efforts on doing something productive even if that’s being a better person, or a little less sensitive.

There’s plenty to be pissed about. People don’t want to focus on the big stuff that matters. They’d rather freak the fuck out about inconsequential nonsense that bruises their fragile egos.

We need a revolution so that we can all ‘man the fuck up’ (sorry feminazis) and start fixing shit like we’re Bob the Builder (or Betty if it makes you feel better).

We need to change the news narrative. Anyone else bored to tears with the daily Brexit coverage? Seriously, this storyline is more drawn out than the whole Ross and Rachael will-they-won’t-they saga.

For all the super-intelligent University educated geniuses that just graduated and have no fucking idea who Ross or Rachael are, go check out a TV show called ‘Friends’. It’s probably on the History channel these days anyway.

Brexit is like an un-flushable turd. A repetitive narrative that papers and broadcasters trot out every day. Seriously, this shite is more convoluted and contrived than the X Factor. It’s the epitome of the lowest form of entertainment and we need to change the record.

Whether you are for a Sunnyside-up Brexit or a Brexit with a side of Unicorn steak, I couldn’t give a damn. A revolution might at the very least give us all something new to get excited about and something we could all rally behind.

We need unity not division

Issues like politics, sport, and even mild banter have become so immersed in the underlying anger we're silently drowning in that no one seems able to have fun anymore.

I cannot remember a time when so many comedians couldn’t make a decent joke about the moronic state of the world and instead make sniping remarks to canned laughter.

Every decent sporting event seems to get overrun with people’s inability to enjoy the spectacle for what it is. Social media and chat forums are littered with petulant hatred and jingoistic tribal bullshit. The Brexit ‘have your say’ plays out like an anthem of bitterness with new vitriolic names invented every day.

We are descending into a bunch of spoiled children who express their pent up feelings through sending passive aggressive memes, angry hashtags and all manner of confusing emojis to make some innocuous point.

We are slowly becoming a mathematician with a broken calculator to solve all our problems. It can’t always be about division (see what I did there).

This diversity bullshit just isn’t working, let’s try something new like a bit of unity. You know: adding shit up to something bigger. I’m fairly sure Einstein would approve, and he was a smart guy.

Some folks need something better to do

If you spend most of your life sitting on your butt. You have all your stuff delivered to your door and your thoughts delivered to your phone or through your TV or laptop – you need a revolution.

We can call it a hobby or a social bonding activity. It’ll be a bit weird because all your new ‘friends’ might not look exactly like you, but you might learn a thing or two about the real world you live in.

Echo chambers are nice and safe because everyone in them thinks the same stuff. However, the real world is full of people ready to blow your mind in more than 140 characters or a 5-minute blog post. It could be exciting.

If you need convincing, watch the Matrix. Neo was simply sad old Thomas Anderson miserable as fuck, then he met Morpheus and learned to fly and loads of other cool shit.

If you already know what you think and it makes you comfortable to surround yourself with other people just like you, perhaps you should just join a cult and be done with it.

The system is broken

Seriously, guys, we have seriously screwed the pooch with the world at the moment.

The system’s broken and we are all just standing around waiting for inevitability to prevail.

The Avengers won't be coming to save us. Anyone who saw last year’s movie knows they are a bit down on their luck at the moment.

Thanos’ minions seem to be running the world and we all need to step up and become superheroes in our own right.

If you want to whip out the Lycra or Spandex – go for it. But do something, even if it’s just being better or not throwing hate out to the world because someone is different from you.

I don’t care if the revolution happens or even if it is streamed on Netflix or some other site. Change needs to happen and often that is as simple as everyone trying to be less of a douchebag than they might have normally been.

The only thing I can offer as a ‘reward’ or promise is that we might actually get some decent music back on the scene.

Revolutions tend to come out best in song. There has been no truly great era of music for decades now, and if ever there was a more compelling reason for a revolution this would be it.

Music is the anthem of the soul. It’s time for it to wake up and belt out something beautiful.

[briangroth27]

The Shape of Water Review

The Shape of Water is an enchanting 1960s-set fairy tale told very well; a powerful, expertly-made work of art about the marginalized in our society. Director Guillermo del Toro got outstanding performances out of his stars while capturing the style and feel of the era perfectly, then used the time period to comment on today’s social issues through a story about the downtrodden rallying together against the establishment to preserve life and love.

Full Spoilers…

Sally Hawkins brilliantly conveyed character and emotion entirely through her expressions and sign language as Elisa Espostio (Sally Hawkins), a mute cleaning lady at a top-secret government laboratory who falls in love with an amphibian man (Doug Jones) captured in Latin America. It’s great to see a mute lead character and even better that the film doesn’t allow it hold her back at all, despite what those in power might think of her capabilities. Conveying the romance with and genuine love for the Amphibian Man was mostly on Elisa’s shoulders and Hawkins absolutely sold every bit of it. A wonderful moment late in the film includes an unexpected musical sequence that perfectly illustrates the impact he has on her heart, showing love can transcend even the strangest of barriers. That said, I don’t think Elisa is fully human herself, but the product of an earlier romance between a human and a different aquatic cryptid: her mysterious “scars” and backstory of being found by a river felt like a classic superhero secret origin. If that’s the case and the Amphibian Man healed her gills instead of creating them, then their relationship not only fuels her voice, but allows her to discover her truest self.

I also liked the easy friendships Elisa shared with her coworker Zelda (Octavia Spencer) and next-door neighbor Giles (Richard Jenkins). It was a nice and all-too-rare touch that these platonic relationships were just as important to Elisa’s life as her burgeoning romance with the Amphibian Man. It was a relief to find Elisa living a fully-functioning life even while she was longing for romantic love. I loved Zelda’s reactions to the Amphibian Man and to updates about Elisa’s love life. In addition to comic relief, Zelda brought common sense to Elisa’s interest in the Amphibian Man, at first keeping her friend’s head level and later recognizing that risking her life and career to help Elisa save him was something they had to do, even though she was greatly concerned for her best friend’s safety. Zelda being so dismissed in her marriage and having her decisions undercut (even if it was to save her life) by her husband (Martin Roach) was a solid mirror to Elisa and the Amphibian Man’s more mutually respectful relationship and to Strickland’s (Michael Shannon) domineering, controlling marriage. While Zelda was a fully-formed character, it would’ve been nice if she had a subplot of some kind of her own, like Giles did. His failed advertising posters (and failed interest in a guy (Morgan Kelly) working at a not-so-great pie shop) gave the movie a glimpse of the world and society outside the lab that we didn’t get from many other characters. Then again, perhaps it’s the fact that Zelda and Elisa work together and Giles doesn’t that made his world feel bigger than hers. It may also be that his ability to pass as an “acceptable” member of society grants him the ability to travel a wider world than Zelda can, as exemplified by the Pie Guy kicking an African-American family out of the pie shop. Despite his long reach, the sadness and rejection encompassing so much of his world, be it from the Pie Guy or the ad agency he was trying to sell to, painted a haunting picture of the world inhabited by those who “proper” society ignored or—at best—used, and I hope the world Elisa gets to travel to at the end of the film is happier and more equal. Still, I liked that Giles had a sense of hope to him; even if the world was clearly weighing on him, he still believes in the possibility of “happily ever after.”

The make-up for the Amphibian Man was mind-blowing and the movie deserved the Best Costume Design Oscar for it, while Doug Jones did an amazing job of conveying emotion and a sympathetic nature under all those prosthetics. The biggest thing I would’ve liked to see more of in the movie was his backstory. Actual god or not, I wanted to know what he wanted (beyond freedom and to love Elisa), what he thought of the world of men, etc. Who were his followers in South America and what “primitive” rituals did they use to worship him? What did he give them in return? Did he even register that he was worshiped as a god, or do his thoughts transcend those labels? What was his thought process as he went from worshiped to imprisoned? I wish he could’ve communicated better to give us some grander idea of his opinion on things, because his actions made him seem torn between gentle emotions and instinct-driven outbursts, like killing one of Giles’ cats. Perhaps it would be an interesting comment on society if this “god” were really just a different sort of animal and the people who worshiped it had simply projected their need for a god onto him, but I’m almost always against “grounding” half-measures in stories like this (if you’re gonna go there, go there), so I interpreted him as truly a god and would’ve liked to know more. That said, having Elisa fall in love with someone so outlandish was a strong metaphor for how those in power at the time (and honestly, in the present as well) saw homosexual and interracial love.

Michael Shannon’s Colonel Richard Strickland was a great villain and I loved how his control-freak nature demanded everyone around him become subservient, much like the paranoid American government he works for and represents demanded conformity. This made him simultaneously threatening and weak, hiding behind a thin veneer of socially-acceptable power. I especially liked his reaction when he found out just how replaceable he could become if he didn’t find the Amphibian Man; his easy dismissal in the event of his failure also contrasted nicely with how Zelda was always willing to cover for Elisa, from rescuing the Amphibian Man to simply holding her place in line to ensure she clocked in on time. Clearly there’s no friendship, loyalty, or leeway among the conformists, only control or destruction. Watching him break down as many people around him as he could—even his wife (Lauren Lee Smith), forcing her to be quiet while he focused on what he wanted out of their sex life—was very uncomfortable, so it was great to see his frustrated reaction to his inability to intimidate or break Elisa and Zelda. Not allowing his wife to speak was a great contrast to the Amphibian Man, who helped Elisa to not just talk, but to sing. The whimsical, silver screen nature of their classic Hollywood dance sequence also contrasted perfectly with the rot just under the “idealized” surface of 1960s America that Strickland upheld. Though the dance sequence is pure fantasy, it’s the only place where “the good old days” were actually good.

Another aspect that perfectly utilized the era was Dimitri Mosenkov/Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg), a Soviet spy embedded in the lab. Like the threat of the Other found in African-Americans, the gay community, and a sea god, the Red Scare epitomized America’s desperate drive to destroy what it couldn’t control or understand. As I’ve seen noted elsewhere, it was very cool that the film subverted expectations and had Mosenkov not only help Elisa save the Amphibian Man from vivisection at the hands of the Americans, but that he gave Elisa information on how to keep him alive once she’d extracted him. That he cared more about the Amphibian Man as a living thing than as a means to attain Soviet superiority by vivisecting it was great; I definitely expected him to try to give him to his spymasters, where the South American god would’ve met the same fate the American military planned for it. It’s certainly a powerful indictment of our government that this spy sent to undermine us had more humanity than our people, who are only concerned with being “the best” no matter what that does to their souls. The fact that Mosenkov literally had a secret identity is also a nice thematic tie to Giles’ closeted homosexuality, Elisa’s mysterious origins, and the hidden power and passion the oppressed in this time concealed from their conformity-demanding government.

Universal’s classic Creature from the Black Lagoon was an inspiration for this film, and The Shape of Water is an excellent sort of remake, touching on similar themes while updating them and making them relevant to a modern audience. It was very smart of del Toro to explore the limitations of social mores of 1962 by focusing on a cast made up of those without power back then (who are still facing under-representation and lack of power today). However, I would argue that while setting this in the past has the desired effect of getting the audience to let its guard down, it also allows the audience to distance themselves too much, letting us say “those problems have been solved” and never forcing us to inspect ourselves. Still, I absolutely loved the score and the entire 1960s aesthetic del Toro achieved! I could easily have seen this taking the Best Cinematography Oscar. 

The Shape of Water looks beautiful, has an excellent cast who are all on point, and has a very strong love story at the center of a powerful tale of those without power subverting the accepted system. I definitely recommend it!

 Check out more of my reviews, opinions, and original short stories here!

[disappearingground]

Interview: Jenny Lewis on 'The Voyager', True Love, and her Musical Sisterhood.

Coup de Main October 6, 2015

INTERVIEW: JENNY LEWIS ON 'THE VOYAGER', TRUE LOVE, AND HER MUSICAL SISTERHOOD.

By Shahlin Graves

There’s a red panda toy on-stage tonight - undoubtedly a first for Sydney’s Metro Theatre (after the show, bemused Australian venue staff take photos of it on their phones). The 'lil panda sits proudly, surveying its surroundings - star-spangled rainbows and bouquets of fresh flowers - looking on as JENNY LEWIS and her five-piece band impress the heck out of an adoring audience.

Jenny Jr., The Panda, (as named during our interview at soundcheck / photos here) looks how I feel - equal parts ecstatic and reverential. When the last decade of your life has been soundtracked by all of Jenny Lewis’ albums, this kind of silent shout-out is like the bucket-list item I’ve always wanted to become reality, but just didn’t know.

Hours earlier, while writing a postcard addressed to New Zealand, Jenny tells us an anecdote about her time on Mumford & Sons’ stopover tour: "I just did this Gentlemen Of The Road festival show, and they have postcards pre-stamped backstage for the artists, so that you can send a postcard to someone - but I just sent postcards to myself, and I sat there for hours writing poems on these postcards about the Jersey Shore. I don’t know if that was their intention, putting them there."

Jenny Lewis is my spirit animal - she’s unashamedly unapologetic, the epitome of big sis wisdom, and a good human; like the very best kind that exists. Whoever said that you shouldn’t meet your heroes, has obviously never met Jenny.

"Can we embrace? I feel like I need to hug you after that," says Jenny post-interview, and the feeling is wholeheartedly mutual.

"...for me, it’s all on the table. My work, it comes from my soul, I’m never writing for someone else. I write from that feeling; so there are no rules."

COUP DE MAIN: Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us today! I grew up listening to Rilo Kiley, so this is such an honour! And in celebration of your existence, as tribute, we’ve bought you a lolly-lei made out of snacks. JENNY LEWIS: Oh my gosh, you guys! Are you serious? Thank you! What are these snacks? Milk bottles?! Thank you, I’ll need these later.

CDM: Selfishly, I’m so happy that you’ve got some Rilo Kiley songs on your current set-list - I don’t think Rilo Kiley ever came to New Zealand, so this is like the end of a long wait for me. JENNY: No, and we didn’t make it to Australia. Blake [Sennett] has a fear - or had a fear - of flying, so I think that was one of the reasons why we didn’t make it in the end. It’s a long flight, it’s quite a commitment - but that’s what drugs are for. <laughs>

CDM: Well, so that you have a super good reason to come visit NZ next time you’re in this part of the world, we’ve adopted you a Red Panda from the Auckland Zoo back in New Zealand. JENNY: WHAT?! This is the best interview I’ve ever done. This is the cutest little guy ever! This is Jenny Jr.? Because I have a purse - it’s like a little mouse-purse, and I call him Gary - and I wonder if Jenny Jr. will fit inside of Gary?

CDM: Jenny Jr. and Gary can be friends! JENNY: Yes! Perfect.

CDM: After working with Ryan Adams on your latest album and then touring together, it’s rad that it just so happened that you’re on the road together again here in Australia. Is tour-Ryan any different to studio-Ryan? JENNY: Ryan is pretty consistently himself, but the coolest part about travelling with Ryan is that he travels with a pinball machine in a road-case. So backstage, there’s always pins to be played. I was never a pinball fan until I started making 'The Voyager' with Ryan, and now I’m a pretty... I can’t say that I’m very good at it, but I really enjoy blowing off steam.

CDM: Can you beat Ryan? JENNY: I can’t beat him at anything. Maybe I could beat him at making a better Grass-Fed burger or something, but that’s about it.

CDM: Girls can do anything, Jenny. Keep practicing. JENNY: Yes! But he’s a pinball fanatic. I’d have to put in a couple years - I don’t have the time to play that much pinball.

CDM: While in NZ last week, Ryan made national news after he helped rescue an abandoned kitten that he found in a cemetery. Is that a normal kind of life-event for Ryan? JENNY: Really?! Did he really?

CDM: Ryan was the #1 Trending Topic on NZ Twitter with #CemeteryCat. He was roaming a cemetery one night, happened upon this abandoned kitten, then rallied our entire nation to try and help save/adopt it. JENNY: Did he just happen upon the cat?

CDM: I assume he was staying at the hotel opposite the cemetery. JENNY: Amazing! We’ve unfollowed each other on social media, so I don’t know anything about #CemeteryCat. <laughs>

CDM: 'The Voyager' album opens with 'Head Underwater', in which you sing, "Looking out on my life / As if there was no there." A year on from the album’s release, do you still feel that disconnect with your past selves? JENNY: No, and I think that line is about the past even in the song. Like, this is what happened to me and I’ve come through it. By the end of the song, that is no longer the case.

CDM: When you look back on your life, do you visualise your past selves as Matryoshka Russian nesting dolls? Or more like pieces of a jig-saw puzzle that fit together? JENNY: That’s a good question. I think more of the Russian dolls, because that little you - that little innocent girl - is always in there somewhere.

CDM: The line, "If for just one second it helps us to remember that we like each other the most" in 'Slippery Slopes', is one of my favourite lyrics on the album. It’s so unashamedly unapologetic, which isn’t a typical narrative for female musicians in this day and age. Why do you think pop-culture stereotypes tropes of female fidelity and infidelity, pitting 'good girls' against 'bad girls'? JENNY: That’s a big question and I think that everyone’s sexuality is their own - you’re on your own path and there’s no right or wrong way to do things. I’ve been in a committed long-term relationship, and that has ebbs and flows, as any long-term relationship does. But it’s funny, 'She’s Not Me' from 'The Voyager' [album], some people have assumed that I’m saying, "She’s not me, she’s easy," as if she’s promiscuous - and that’s not the point of the song at all because I would never say that about another woman and I don’t judge women by how they choose to carry themselves in that regard. But really, it’s just about someone who’s a little easier to live with than me. <laughs> She’s easy; I’m a little more complicated, it’s a little more difficult with me.

CDM: Another of the album’s important takeaway lines, is of course, "There's only one difference between you and me / When I look at myself, all I can see: I'm just another lady without a baby," in 'Just One Of The Guys'. Do you feel frustrated with society’s gender constructs? JENNY: I do, but that line in that song is-- well, it changes from night to night, but on most nights, it’s light. It’s not entirely heavy, and I think that it’s okay to talk about those things in your work. I think there are pressures... like, you have to choose between your career and having a family - you can do both, or you can choose neither, or it’s okay to define yourself through your work rather than other humans that you’re creating.

CDM: I don’t really read album reviews unless it’s research-related, so I only read The Telegraph’s review of 'The Voyager' this week. They said, "Given Lewis’s age and retro-musical instincts, major stardom may now be beyond her grasp, but if you like your pop music grown up, she’s up there with the big boys." Every word of that sentence makes me livid, from them putting an expiry date on your career to the 'big boys' idiom. Do you think that music journalists would be judging these songs in the same way if they were Rilo Kiley songs? JENNY: I don’t know... because if they were Rilo Kiley songs, if my band were still together, I’d still be a 39-year-old woman writing pop songs. I didn’t actually read that review when it came out. <laughs> I was reading an interview recently with Meryl Streep and she said something really interesting. She said that when she turned 40, the only parts that she was offered were parts to play witches in movies. <laughs> So if someone like Meryl Streep feels it, I certainly feel it. But what she’s done, and she’s continued to do amazing work, is she’s also created a writer’s workshop for women over 40 - and it’s specifically for women over 40. So I think that kind of journalism... it will always exist, but I don’t let it affect my work.

CDM: In Kim Gordon’s book, 'Girl In A Band', she says: "For high-end music labels, the music matters, but a lot comes down to how the girl looks. The girl anchors the stage, sucks in the male gaze, and, depending on who she is, throws her own gaze back out into the audience. Since our music can be weird and dissonant, having me center stage also makes it that much easier to sell the band. 'Look, it’s a girl, she’s wearing a dress, and she’s with those guys, so things must be okay.'" Do you agree or disagree with those thoughts? JENNY: Well, I think that’s why we play indie-rock. Because we don’t necessarily have to subscribe to that. I can only talk about my own experience, and in the way that I’ve presented myself as a female up on a stage with my band or with Rilo Kiley... and I grew up and I was extremely shy - I was a tomboy until I was in my mid-twenties - and when I started feeling more comfortable-- like if you look at early Rilo Kiley photos, I was in jeans and t-shirts, and then I started becoming more confident and just feeling more attractive. And so I started wearing dresses and I started wearing hotpants, and it infuriated some of the people in the audience - some of our hardcore fans - as if I had sold out. But really what was happening, was I was growing up and coming into my own and feeling more comfortable in my own body.

CDM: Because what you’re wearing totally affects the quality of your music. JENNY: Right! But it’s so funny how no-one ever said anything about what Blake was wearing - if he had a moustache or not, or long hair or short hair, or shorts or Tevas, hat or no hat. But suddenly somehow the quality of the music declined because the length of my pants got shorter. So it’s absurd. But again, you embody your own femininity and sexuality in your own time.

CDM: 'Love U Forever' ironically voyages from the bliss of young love, to "the feeling of hell in a hallway" when a relationship is no longer shiny and new. Do you believe in true love? What does true love mean to you? JENNY: I do. I think you have to believe in true love. I think practical love is also a part of the equation, and it takes work to be in love, and I think standing in love is something different than falling in love - and I think that’s the ultimate goal. You meet a lot of people that fall in love very quickly and obsess and then it sort of ends, but just the idea of standing in it is different.

CDM: Through Rilo Kiley, Jenny and Johnny, and now 'The Voyager' album, you’ve documented your relationships in a public way over a series of albums. It would be easy to dwell on the negative aspects of that sharing, but what have been the upsides for you personally? JENNY: I learn about myself through my songs. And sometimes I write things that I don’t understand in the moment - I write songs because I have a hard time expressing myself in my own relationships, so a lot of times I’ll write something and then three years later I’ll truly understand how I felt at that time. So for me, it’s all on the table. My work, it comes from my soul, I’m never writing for someone else. I write from that feeling; so there are no rules. I never tell myself what I’m not supposed to write about. But talking about my relationship, that’s different - if I’m giving an interview, I think you want to keep some things for yourself. But once you start making rules about what you can and cannot speak to, then you could find yourself in trouble.

CDM: Do you think it’s more important to move forward or move on? JENNY: Move forward. Because, do you ever really move on? I don’t think so.

CDM: In the Rilo Kiley song, 'Love and War (11/11/46)', you asked: "Can vanity and happiness coexist?" Over a decade later, have you found an answer for that question yet? JENNY: HA! I love that line. That line is so funny, I really thought about it for so long. I think that I probably wouldn’t write that line today, because the hope is that you become more comfortable in your own skin as you get a little bit older. But if I could tell my younger self anything, it would be like, 'Don’t worry about it.' Like a 22-year-old Jenny Lewis, 'Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. You look great. Don’t worry about it.'

CDM: You worked with Vampire Weekend’s Rostam Batmanglij on 'Completely Not Me' last year, for the 'Girls' soundtrack. He’s such an extreme perfectionist, that seems like it would have been the opposite studio experience of working with Ryan Adams who is so primal and instinctual? JENNY: It’s a completely different style of working. Ryan is all analogue - yeah it’s all instinctual, but he is also a perfectionist if he has an idea about the song itself. He doesn’t let the musicians dwell on the process, but he’s very specific about what he wants to hear. Rostam is in a digital world, so things change when you’re not even in the room. But working with both of those guys I learned so much, and I actually am working on a song with Rostam right now - we just started writing something together and I always love working with him.

CDM: You’re so super all about the sisterhood. From having Z Berg perform with you on Jimmy Kimmel Live, to playing at Haim’s Sam Jam benefit show and also having the Haim sisters appear on-stage with you at Coachella this year. As sort of the Patron Saint of Valley Girl musicians, do you feel like a proud Mom watching Haim take over the world? JENNY: How do you know all this stuff?! This is great! <laughs> I am so, so proud of them. I’ve had so many amazing musicians in my band over the years, Este and Danielle Haim, Blake Mills who’s amazing, Natalie Prass was in my band last year... so I’ve seen so many people go on to do really amazing things after spending a little time in my band. I’m so lucky to have people for a short amount of time. And I’ve learned so much from the Haim girls; I’m so incredibly proud of them, and I’m always there if they need me. They were actually over at my house a couple of weeks ago and were talking about songs and writing. I’m always a resource - if you’ve done time in my band, I’m always here for you.

[drukkie-kookie]

Alla Prima (Pt.1)

Pairing : Jimin x Seulgi

Genre : drama, angst, eventual smut, college au!

Word count : 3,485

Description : When an antisocial realist-painter, Park Jimin decided to change his subject from scenery to a breathing things, he didn't expect one particular homo-sapiens Kang Seulgi whom he has been avoiding since that day, whom painfully stunning, and probably wouldn't even take a single glance on him in million years, voluntereed herself as the tribute for his new project. And by means, even if it's included a package of her without a single clothes on.

P.S.:  So first of all,I’m such a btsvelvet trash and this is just work of fiction. 

  "This is not too shabby. "

Namjoon pondered as his brows twitched slightly,  analyzing the piece of art in front of him. Jimin's face was flat like it usually be, but a relieved sigh blooming inside him. thanks God.

"At this rate, you might just open your own exhibition  man. Why bother entering my own? "

The cease in his eyebrows deepened. But really,  he couldn't understand this prodigy's mind sometimes. But Jimin only shrugged.

"I'm not ready yet. "

"Not ready, or you don't want to? "

Namjoon questioned more.  It was like a rheotical question, which he knew that Jimin himself don't know the answer, yet.

The 24"x32" canvas in front of them bursted with major dark colours. As the Aurora prominetly sparkling under his touch, never being drowned with all the grey area surrounding it. Really, it's only this certain Park Jimin who can create masterpiece like this, effortlessly.

"I entrusted it to you then. Set it on a high price."

He put all his palette and brushes back to his rugged backpack. Smudges of colours can be seen here and there,  but he never worries to change it to the new one. This backpack is his lucky charm. He bid goodbye to Namjoon quitely and headed to the café, didn't miss the faint reply from Namjoon at the distance.

"No worries man!"

  Jimin hated the campus cafe.

No, he hates it.

The smells of coffee never ceased to exist,  always suffocates his breathing the moment he stepped in. Not that he hated coffee, it’s just, he never used to its smell and taste since he was little. Because only vegetable and fruit juices filled his everyday meal at home. Noises of people chattering,  gossiping useless thing,  the people making their own groups, alienating others,  Jimin hated it all. He came from the rural area in Busan, gotten a full scholarship for his art study was out of the plan. But he knew it was destined,  and he was thrilled to finally go and taste the little piece of heaven in the capital city, Seoul. He remembered how everyone knows everyone back in his village. He missed Taehyung and Jin, whom every Sunday always rotating,  helping each other's father to soil the farm and afterwads slashing the watermelon to sate their thirst after working hard. And he remembered after school,  he always dropped by to Taehyung's house just to play with Sooshim and helping his grandma mixing the kimchi. Life was good back then. Peaceful,  and full of fond memories. Not like here. Where people are too individualistic, busy with their own mind and business. What a shame he ended up become one. And the fact he found out the ugly truth about Seoul from day-1 didn’t seem to help at all. It tasted more like a mixture of hell and grey paint more than a heaven. He guessed that little piece of heaven really tiny then, the reality didn’t betray the phrase.

But at least they got a nice warm croissant bun here. Which never missed to be his breakfast.

He picked up his tray, with his other arms propped the hanging backpack. Jimin skimmed the area, and he was glad his usual spot wasn’t taken. Right next to the gigantic glass wall, facing the vast football field. But he was startled when his eyes met a pair of cat-like eyes catching his eyes off-guard. But Jimin averted his gaze in an instant and headed to his seat as he calmed down his erratic heart.

He hates the effect she has on him. It’s been a year, but his body always reacted the same. He’s so whipped and he hates it.

But the bubble inside his head popped into pieces when he felt his phone vibrating. A message from mom.

“좋은 아침 내아들, 아침 먹었?”

“Good morning my son, have you eaten breakfast yet?”

Jimin smiled and quickly typed a reply to his mom. He loves how his mom never missed to check up on him everyday. Even if it’s only a brief hello on the phone, or a single text asking how are you. He’s such a mama boy and he’s proud of it.

Another unexpected message came again not long after that.

“This end semester vacation you’ll come home, right?”

At that, Jimin’s stomach churned. He could sense how much she missed him, and the guilt washed over him knowing the previous mid-semester he broke his promise to come home. He told her he had his painting being paid well and he would have enough money to come back, but he ended up buying new art supplies, with better qualities, and pretty expensive, just because he couldn’t hold his thirst to paint a little bit, with his first own money, earned by himself. He remembered how jumbled up his mind, filled with new ideas and colours inside his head, resulting his one of his best masterpiece ‘The Aurora of the Dawn’ or so he called it. Truthfully, he never wanted to sell any of his painting. He cherished them all dearly. It was the result of blood, sweat, and tears of his imagination and skills. With countless practice on paper, perfecting it before pouring it all down to the canvas. Because he can’t be wasteful on canvas, for it was not cheap for him to buy. Therefore, the canvas should be the masterpiece of his masterpiece. It has to.

But at least he already got them all on a photo. Framed and hang them all in his flat. He just hoped that, whoever buy it, will appreciate it as much as he is. And they’ll be happy after looking at it.

“Yes mom I’ll go home. Promise.”

He promised, and Namjoon better sell it in a good price. Because there’s no way he would let down his mother once more. He has to go home, and he will.

He sighed as he finished replying his mom. He started nibbling on his croissant, suddenly lose a little bit of appetite, but he knows he has to eat well or he’ll just making his mom and dad worried. Jimin was about to munch on the second croissant when a line notification came up.

“Hyung you’ll come to the party this weekend?

Football team’s headquarter. 9pm. Hope you can make it.”

It was from Jungkook, the boy from the sport department. Jungkook was the definition of well-known jock in the campus. He’s made it to the primary team despite being a freshman. Many people envy him and mesmerized by him, but only Jimin who knew the real him, for both of them coming from the same city, Jungkook clutched to him like a baby when he first arrived to Seoul. With full scholarship like him and ordinary family background, Jimin couldn’t abandon the little guy. All the familiarity of home oozing from Jungkook didn’t help at all, and they ended up growing close. Jimin helped him searching for a flat, a little bit touring over Seoul, etc etc.

But things changes, people changes. And so does Jungkook.

The epitome of the Golden Boy instantly become Jungkook’s new nickname. As the tagline goes afterwards, study hard, play harder. And boy, Jungkook partied hard. He never missed a weekend without a party. Jimin admit he’s amazed by him on how well Jungkook managed to ace every exams he had, despite the harsh practice of football team and still maintain his social life with partying till dawn. Jimin wasn’t the gifted type like him. He has to work his asses off to be where he’s standing now. Being called a prodigy painter was a bonus. But the gift he had has to be enhanced with practices. And that’s what he does. He’d rather practicing his sketches than wasting his time partying until wee hours. It’s just wasting his energy. He likes conserving his energy.

“No promises.” Jimin curtly replied. No promises equals he’s not going. Not a minute afterwards, another message came.

“Aw c’mon man, it’s his first win. We have to celebrate!!!”

A message from none other than Jung Hoseok, a.k.a his flat-mate. Jimin massage his temple, these to boys must’ve chatted behind him and played those ‘first-win’ card on him. With both of them are party-people, they never forget to invite Jimin to the party. But Jimin always politely refused, after that incident happed.

Speaking of ‘that’ incident, he shuddered when the rush of memories coming back to his mind….

 A year ago, 20 April 2012, Freshmen welcoming party.

“Yah don’t just sip it, drink it in one go you pabo!” Hoseok yelled to Jimin as he shoved the tiny shot glass down to Jimin’s mouth. A fit of cough followed Jimin afterwards, the burn sensation really uncomfortable in his throat. He sent down a death glare to Hoseok, which only resulted a sheepish grin as a reply.

“Let’s just enjoy this night to the fullest, okhey?”

Hoseok patted Jimin’s butt as he dragged him to the crowd of sweaty dancing people. All Jimin could do was obeyed the sunshine at heart and holding back his experated sigh to escape. He didn’t want to make him upset.

It was the night of welcoming party for all the freshmen. After four days of torture of student orientation a month ago, the senior prepared this big event as the apology gift for the new students. Jimin heard from Yoongi sunbae that it wasn’t easy to get the permission to use the plenary hall from the campus but somehow they managed, so that’s why the freshmen had to have a great time and all of them had to attend. Jimin was no exception.

At first he wasn’t so sure to join the party. He wasn’t familiar with alcohol, he already hit his coming of age last year but he haven’t touched a drop of alcohol, even a sip of a soju. People was supposed to get three things on their coming of age ceremony, a bonquet of roses, a kiss, and a bottle of alcohol. And he hadn’t had all three of them and Jimin’s not complaining. Hoseok has been bragging it up too much these past days after their roommate-to-roommate slash heart-to-heart talk last week. Jimin just couldn’t understand which part is disappointing of not getting those three. So Hoseok hadn’t forget to bring it up tonight too, ‘I’ll get the kiss, the alcohol, and the roses for you tonight!’ Jimin just chuckled at his antics.

Hoseok dragged him right at the centre of the dance floor. “Loosen up man! Let the night rules us tonight!” Hoseok cheered, Jimin couldn’t help to smile back to the sunshine. He tried to dance, but failed miserably. He looked like an invicible wall next to the master of dance dancing next to him. People started to notice Hoseok, and they gave space for him to move freely. Jimin joined the crowd and enjoyed Hoseok’s performance from the side. Man, he’s born to be a star. He thought.

Jimin decided to take another shot, he need something to do anyway. He gulped down in one shot, grimaced a little bit by the hot yet cold liquid coming down his throat, but he now realized the pleasant feeling afterwards. No wonder people love drinking, it tasted good. But he remembered his dad warning back at home, ‘Please stay away from drugs and alcohol son, I hope you take care of yourself there.’ So Jimin decided to stop at the third shot. He already felt a little bit lightweighing already.

Jimin looked back at the room, seeing all the people were having the time of their life. Some busy talking to each other, making new relations and friends here and there. Some were busy making out that it had him grimaced a little bit. He somehow couldn’t understand with PDA, he’d rather do it all those affection gestures in private, because it felt so privacy to him. Things like that need to be cherished, as it was intimate and very personal gesture for him.

He caught a ponytail in his sight, but he was disappointed to see it wasn’t her. Yes, her, none other than Kang Seulgi. Kang Seulgi was the well-known beauty from the Vocal department. The beauty wasn’t only from her appearance, but also her voice. Her heavenly voice. He never met someone who could make him skipped a beat just by the sound of their laugh. But that was Kang Seulgi did to him.

The whole four days of the freshmen orientation was spent together with Seulgi, as both Jimin and her was set into the same group. All the members were awkward at first, including him and Seulgi. But thanks to this guy called Chanyeol, the ice melted and all the members warming up to each other in an instant. But the senior were merciless. At the second day, each of the group had to choose one member to sing in front of the whole student. Seulgi, being the one and only from the Vocal department, had no other choice.

He remembered how white her nails went, due to her non-stop chlenching it because of her nervousness. He had this strange urge to unclasped her hand and engulfed hers with his. But he dismissed it all and just closely watched her trembled a little as she walked into the podium. He unknowingly prayed she’ll be alright.

When she opened her lips, all those nervousness gone from her eyes. And the world stopped for a moment for Jimin.

Her voice soared through all over the field. All the student fell silent by her voice. Her voice was so beautiful, beyond compare. She followed the rhythm leisurely, as if it was the rhythm who followed her voice. But at the end of the song, she cracked her voice a little bit, making herself went beet red as she apologized and let out a sweet, awkward laugh. And the crowd cheered, hooted hard, and he was sure 95% of the male students had been head over heels over her. Including him.

And since that day, he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

His eyes couldn’t help to search her in the crowd. He should stop. He sighed. He dislike himself when he’s acting all whipped like this. But at the end he couldn’t help basking at the warmth this ‘crush’ served everytime he saw her in campus.

Jimin decided to borrow a pen and drawing random things on the tissue he got from the bartender. This party kinda amazing tho, it has a minibar with professional bartender inside. This is just like a university edition of a bar. He was so immersed that he didn’t realized someone had been sitting next to him for a while, looking at him closely.

“What are you drawing?”

Wait what?

“Jimin…right? We were at the same group!” She excitedly asked him. Jimin was speechless for a while, he didn’t expect this particular Kang Seulgi to be the one who find him. He drank in her sight for a moment, she wore a faded jeans and cropped sweater tonight, mixed with thin burgundy jumper at the outer. She looked good. And comfy. And those cropped sweater revealed her prominent abs, making his gone into shame. She let down her hair tonight, no wonder he couldn’t find her before.

“Ah yeah…” He replied. Scrathing his neck, didn’t know what to do. Does he continue drawing or what? His mind felt blank the moment she showed up. Seulgi smiled at his reply, making all her eyes gone because of that eyesmile.

“So, what are you drawing?” She pondered again, propping her chin on his arm, genuinely interested at the crappy sketch of his dog that died two years ago. He didn’t feel confident with his drawing. He knew he got the scholarship without no reason, but showing someone his sketches instead his final piece really not his cup of tea.

“Ah, it’s nothing…” He tried to fold the tissue paper hastily, but Seulgi frowned and stealthily snatched it from him. Jimin was taken aback by her sudden movement, and the brief moment she grabbed his hand made him palpitating inside. His eyes were as wide as saucer.

“Why are you hiding it? It’s good!” She swiftly complimented his messy sketch. And that moment, he was a goner. Again. For the second time. Shit he must be really like her then. Fuck.

Suddenly someone called her from the crowd, “Ah, I’ll be right back Park Jimin!” And just like that, she’s gone. She brought his sketch along with her. Great.

The night went on. Jimin didn’t move an inch, mostly because he’s too lazy to find another place to sit (and another reason just in case she’s coming back), so Jimin put on his headphone and blasting his recent favourite song, he didn’t really care the way it sounded clashing with the song in the room. He was out of the world for an hour when Hoseok coming back, drunk as ever.

“Come little boy let’s find herRrrrRr~!” He was slurring hard and Jimin knew it was time to go home. Jimin slinged one of Hoseok’s hand around his neck, and basically dragging half of his weight with him. Oh the things he do for Hoseok.

“Where are we going? We haven’t got the roses and the kiss yet!” He whined. Jimin sighed as Hoseok squirmed from his hold. “We’re going back home.” He replied. And with that, suddenly Hoseok stand up straight, as if he was sober. Without further ado, he grabbed Jimin’s arm and locked it in his grasp, then dragged him into the sea of people.

‘What’s with him???’ Jimin incredulously looked at him and puzzled by his sudden antics. “Hobi what are you doing?” They’ve basically circling the huge plenary hall and Hoseok didn’t show a sign to stop.

“We’re not going home before we meet that Seulgi girl. You get her phone number, and a kiss too before we go home would be amazing but don’t get your hopes up.” He firmly stated a ridiculous goals for tonight. Jimin tried to release himself from his grasp, but it was futile due to his iron-grip. Damn Hoseok and his muscles.

“What the hell Hobi-!

“I think that’s her, SEULGI JIMIN WANT TO KISS YOU, oh shit-

Jimin was frozen with the sight in front of him. Seulgi was kissing someone near the back. She was obviously heard what Hoseok’s said clearly and that’s why she suddenly startled and broke the making out session she had. Her lipstick was smeared, her face was red and her pupils were dilated, showing her black eyes prominently like the night sky. Jimin’s gut was churned, and briefly met her eyes, and he instantly turned around his heels and running out from there.

He didn’t expect the night he realized he really liked her would be the same night his heart being broken.

  Jimin sighed at the memories. He remembered he was mad at Hoseok for five days (no more no less, because it was impossible to be mad at that man longer than that), giving him the silent treatment. That five days was the longest fight they ever had.

If only feelings could be erased as easy as clicking the backspace at the word documents. He silently thought inside.

Jimin tried to forget her, he really did. He busied himself, and practically focusing on school. It helped a little bit, and the way their department was far from each other was a bonus. But in the end she never missed to be in his vision even just for a day. Whether it was in the library, the hallway, or in the café like this. Reality sucks and not helping at all. He put on his earphone and just wanted to distract himself from that annoying reality for a while.

So Park Jimin didn’t expect it at all when that particular someone bringing her tray filled with quiche and sat next to him.

“Hey.” She said. Jimin was stunned. He was silent for a solid 10 seconds, and Seulgi couldn’t take the heavy silence anymore. She put off one his earphone and said,

“I’ll be your model for your upcoming project. What do you say?”

[hellochapsdg]

Blog? I guess?

Alright fuckers, I think I wanna start this, sorta as a journal, sorta as a cry for help, sorta as getting my thoughts to other people in a longer form than a text or message. 

So...what are my thoughts now

Well for one thing, I’m lonely as fuck

If you know me deeply enough, you know that already, but some people probably don’t know that about me. Yep, practically every day or every night I am lonely. 

This isn’t a recent pubesent thing either, this has been happening my entire life. I remember always wanting some sibling, as I’m an only child. I remember asking my mom when I was like 5 if we could adopt a kid because of that. For some reason I always wanted some younger brother or sister. Maybe it’s because I like to help people, maybe it’s because I was lonely. I hate whenever I tell anyone I’m an only child, because they always claim I’m lucky. As if it was some sort of accomplishment to be the only one. It’s a surprising amount of pressure. For one thing, the lonelyness. But also the inadvertant pressure from my family. I’m the only child from my parents. It’s not like I can be a failure but it’s okay because my parents still have a kid to look forward to their accomplishments, nah. Instead, if I’m a failure, they feel bad because they don’t get a seccond chance. 

But yeah, crippiling lonelyness. I’m not sure if it’s from my depression, or my social inneptitude, or the fact that people just hate me, but I tend to isolate myself fairly often. It’s not deliberate. I never want to be alone, not talking to anyone but my parents for days at a time, but nobody ever reaches out. I’m always the one to initiate conversation. I’m always the lonely one with no social events or anything. I haven’t seen my friends once after school ended for the summer. I really do want to, I just don’t wanna be an annoyance to other people, or try to be that person who wants to do something. I want to do things with my summer besides what my parents say and marching band. I want to go out with friends, but I don’t have a vessel to do that with. I’m getting to the point where less and less people have free time to hang out because of working. Meanwhile, I can’t work, but that’s a story for a different entry. So I’m stuck at home, with nothing to do and nobody to talk to. That’s how I get lonely.

Another way is romantically. I like people, I get crushes on people. But they’re either straight, or I know they don’t like me the way I do. 

Like many gays, I’m pretty into Steven Universe. The problem is that show has a lot of themes about loving yourself and loving other people romantically. But I haven’t felt that double sided romantic attraction before. Have people had crushes on me: yes. Of course, those people are girls, and I ain’t into those. No guy(that I know of) has liked me that I like back in the same way. Which sucks, I have no clue when I will get into a relationship like that. I really want one, I yearn for one, but I’ve pretty much had crushes on every gay in the school and they’ve all turned me down, so I’m probably hopeless. At least in high school. 

The problem is, once again, my parents. They met in high school, and they’re still together. Somehow. Plus, outside of high school, I have no clue how I’m gonna meet people. I wouldn’t end up well on Grindr, or any other similar apps. Those are practically just “Do you wanna fuck them? Yes or no?” 

And of course, nobody wants to fuck me. I am way too ugly for anyone to feel that way. I know that. I hate that. I’ve accepted that, but I wish it wasn’t the case. Some people have liked me, most likely due to the fact that I supposedly have a “good personality”(personally, I don’t see it.) However, I am about 99.99999999999% certaint that nobody has looked at me and thought “Damn, he’s hot.” No human being on Earth probably would say that looking at me.  I somehow look 35 and 13 at the same time. I pretty much have the epitome of a dad bod, at 16. I hate it so much. I hate my body so much. If I could somehow go into practically any body of another male, I would probably accept it in a heartbeat. Most of that is weight related, but are you surprised? I’m 16 and I weigh 300lbs. This isn’t some sort of case where I’m like a pound overweight and I complain that I’m fat. No, this is a serious thing, and it helps the ugliness. So imma be honest, I don’t see much of a future where I’m romantically involved with anyone. Nobody would be blind or stupid enough to find e attractive, at all. I know that, I just need to accept that as a fact of life, and not something that with enough finnessing I can change. 

So that’s a synopsis of what you may see on this blog. 2AM rants about how ugly I am, and about a bajillion pounds of self hatred. Thanks for reading, I guess(Like anyone is actually going to read all the way down here)

[reedsresort]

From First Grade Until Forever

This past New Year’s Eve, we were lucky enough to be part of a picture-perfect proposal in Stone Harbor. We asked the newly engaged couple to share their love story and a bit about the proposal. Epitomizing the Nicholas Sparks quote, “Every great love story starts with a great story,” we’re honored to share Christy & Matt’s fairytale, in their own words...

“Christy and Matt met for the first time back in 1st grade at Shaeffer Elementary school in Camp Hill.  They grew up on the same street; Willow Avenue. They were always friends but nothing more. The boys often played at our house growing up and the girls played at Christy’s house with St. John’s Alley as the only thing standing in between.

The years went by and as junior high and high school came around they flirted in class from time to time, had fun in the halls together and saw each other out at parties but nothing romantic ever blossomed from it and neither thought of the other in that way. After graduation they never saw each other again.

So college came and went and it had been almost 8 years since they last saw each other. Christy was busy working in the finance world and enjoying New York City after graduating college at Hofstra while Matt was waiting tables and bartending in Harrisburg after graduating from the University of Delaware while planning his move to Philadelphia for medical school and living the single life.

After a night of waiting tables in downtown Harrisburg, Matt and his good buddy went out for some drinks to their favorite local bar, Zembie’s; planning to blow all the tip money they had earned for the evening. During a few laughs, out of nowhere, in walks this girl from the past smiling ear to ear and batting her eyelashes as she approached them. Matt remembers being instantaneously captivated by her and thinking to himself in that moment: Who is this girl? It was Christy Diebold and she looked all grown up.  She was stunning; straight off a train home from NYC for Mother’s Day weekend. Something was different about this girl after all these years.

The connection between the pair was instantaneous for both of them and something neither one could ignore. So much that they spent the entire night laughing, telling stories, flirting with each other and catching up on old times until the sun came up. Matt vividly remembers sitting next to Christy at one fateful point in the night feeling something he had never felt before. It was an unexpected feeling that he wasn’t used to in those young and casual single days, but it hit him hard. Christy was sitting next to Matt on the kitchen counter of the Shenk house on 27th street in Camp Hill, staring at the floor with a mischievous smirk on her face and swinging her legs after one big laugh. There was a moment of silence between them. Something came over Matt.  He looked over at Christy and told her honestly, in that moment, that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. Christy smiled as big as could be and Matt seized the moment and kissed her. Both Christy and Matt remember it being thunder and lighting…fireworks; an electric feeling neither had felt before in their lives.

Something big was in the air.

The next week Matt called Christy and they had a great conversation, picking up right where they left off.  Matt had planned to take a train up to New York City to surprise Christy at her office with flowers and take her out.  But as life would have it, Matt had heard that Christy was currently dating some other guys in NYC at the time and as a result, like many young, arrogant men do, he let the opportunity and the moment pass them by over his ego.  A mistake he would later regret and learn from.

After that magical night Matt began to call Christy his “Unicorn.” The one that got away. The girl he always wanted but missed his chance with. He told all his friends over and over to the point that eventually the entire town of family friends was well versed in the subject. Over the next couple of years Christy would drop hints here and there for Matt to come after her when they saw each other. A friend or two would try to get them together whenever the opportunity presented, and they would both secretly try to find out if the other would be around at common social events amongst mutual friends. They both wanted each other but neither had the guts to drop their pride and say it. Then one night, out of the blue, Matt got a call from Christy in the late hours. It had been a long time since they last spoke; maybe a year. When Matt picked up the phone the conversation flowed as it always did, flirting and teasing each other. But on this night Christy dropped the biggest and final hint of all for Matt to make his move. Matt knew it was now or never to go after her.

However, the foolishness of a young man is hard to explain sometimes I fear. 10 years went by and Matt would often dream of taking the train to NYC to surprise Christy and tell her how he thought about her and Christy would dream of what it would be like if they were together if he ever came after her. But Matt never made his move out of pride and Christy had too much dignity to make it any more clear. So both Matt and Christy entered into relationships with other people over the next 8-10 years. But no matter what, every time they saw each other the tension was palpable, the chemistry between them never disappeared and the feelings they had only became stronger as time passed.

So as the stars aligned, one summer a few years ago, they found themselves spending a lot of time around each other with mutual friends. There was a memorable late summer night out at the bars in Stone Harbor, in which they both couldn’t stop talking to each other or keeping their eyes off each other. Old feelings that had been suppressed and harbored away for so long came rushing back to the forefront and that chemistry and attraction came boiling to the surface undeniable. In the words of Nicholas Sparks, ”the heart wants what the heart wants.” Carpe Diem Matt remembers thinking. As the night ended, Matt and Christy found themselves together sitting on a boardwalk bench at 30th street. Matt remembers the same feeling come over him from 10 years earlier on that kitchen counter. It was time to bring this ship into shore. He wasn’t about to miss his second chance at the girl he never let go of in his mind; his “Unicorn.” Matt took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to tell Christy all the thoughts and feelings he held onto over the previous 10 years. He told her about how he had never let go of that feeling when they first kissed and the memories of the girl who changed him that night. Tears welled in Christy’s eyes as she opened up and told him in return all the feelings she had for him and had hidden away all those years. She told him how she had tried to find him at parties and events or show up wherever she heard he would be just for a chance to see him. 

The the moment was too much for Christy’s emotions. She stood up abruptly and ran away! Matt was in disbelief. After the mistakes he had made in the past by never chasing after her when all the signs and hints were there, he knew with all the certainty in his heart that he was never going to let her slip away again. So he ran after her down the street as fast as he could. Without a warning he grabbed her, looked into her eyes and kissed her with all the feelings they both held onto over the years.

Like a time machine 10 years earlier, it was thunder and lighting all over again but the fireworks this time were even stronger for all the years of wanting and waiting. Christy said it wouldn’t be easy. Matt said he didn’t care. If they both held on to this feeling for all this time after one magical night years ago, then they both knew that neither one would ever let go.

They both held on to each other in their hearts against all odds. What they found was true love.

In the words of the great Walt Whitman: ‘We were together…I forget the rest.’”

Does it get any more magical than that? It just might- when the pair marries at The Reeds on June 1, 2019!

[artificialqueens]

Working Girl (Sharon/Katya) - Spoky

A/N: A PWP I started after the Aspen-katlaska-incident and recently re-discovered in the drawer. (Shalaska undertones.) One-shot.

Working Girl

According to the well informed opinion of Miss. Sharon Needles, Instagram could be described to be two things: the epitome of self-indulgent narcissism, or alternatively, a window to a person’s often overtly glamorised self-representation. Alaska Thunderfuck’s account was undeniably both, but additionally it functioned as a marketing platform. The fact that her highness had now crossed the line from shameless self-promotion to whoring for love made Sharon cringe. Admittedly, not many would realise Alaska’s faux pas, but to Sharon it was obvious.

She threw the half empty bottle of makeup remover back into her bag and swore under her breath. What had possessed Alaska to publish that video on social media, Sharon would never know or understand. She wiggled out of her dress and kept glancing at her phone, as if expecting the technology to explain her ex’s inconceivable behaviour. Sharon could appreciate the merits of Instagram, but sometimes the visual digital reality proved to be slightly too much for her to handle. It provided information and evidence of occurrences and events she’d rather been unaware of – such as drag on Aspen Gay Ski Week 2017.

Sharon folded the wig she’d been wearing back into its net and kicked her stilettos closer to the suitcase. One glance at the mirror revealed an upset looking man with some traces of purple lipstick on his lower lip. He really needed a better makeup remover.

Whether Sharon had a right to be upset over the Aspen videos was not relevant. He was upset regardless of his rights – or lack thereof – to feel anger, frustration or jealousy over Miss Thunderfuck. He was not in charge of his emotions. He didn’t consciously produce them and hence refused any responsibility in their existence.

He wanted a drink. Needed a drink. After erasing the rest of the traces of Miss Needles on his body, Sharon walked into the club through the backdoor and scanned the audience, which fortunately was way too engaged with the show to pay him much of attention.

“Double whisky and a PBR,” he placed his order with the surprised bartender and pulled out his phone. He couldn’t stop watching it, the video of Alaska dancing in some hotel hallway in a bleach white towel. The recording was old, but just now Sharon had been sent the links. The camerawork was ridiculously shaky. He clicked back to the second video, the more infuriating one, and watched Katya Zamolodchikova giggle as she played with a red, glittery phone and then, Sharon knew it was coming, he heard Alaska’s quiet whisper: “I wanna kiss you … in a hallway in Aspen.” He grimaced and swiped the screen shut before stuffing the damn device back into his pocket. The video was driving him insane.

Sharon grabbed the whisky and downed it, hoping that the burning ethanol would erase the memories of his own first few encounters with Alaska. Miss Thundefuck had developed the habit to begin her flirtation under the pretences of joking very early. It was her brand defence-mechanism, a way to keep the back door open, always prepared for rejection. “I’m joking, obviously.” Because back in those days, Alaska got rejected a lot. A lot. She had never grown out of the habit and Sharon knew it, and now he had to witness it on social media. It was infuriating. “Another?” he called to the bartender and tapped the empty glass.

The whisky was gone almost as soon as the glass hit the bar top, and Sharon’s lip curled as he exhaled what felt like varnish remover. He cursed himself inwardly for not specifying his liquor. He was now sure he was drinking well-whisky, something his head wouldn’t exactly thank him for in the morning. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

It was ridiculous to be jealous, and Sharon knew it. That’s what pissed him off. Alaska had every right to be happy and fool around; to do whatever she wanted with whomever she wanted to. But Katya? Sharon just couldn’t see it. Or rather, she could see it. Fucking Instagram. But he couldn’t believe it. Fucking Alaska.

He downed the fourth whisky. Third? And glanced around at the bar. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a selfie. He made face at the flash and groped the fan’s ass before the man was snatched back into the safety of his stout boyfriend. Sharon let him go without a fight. The boyfriend had probably forty pounds on him of what looked like pure muscle. There would be other race chasers in the venue if he felt like taking that route.  

The bar was getting more crowded and Sharon wondered whether he should just go back to the hotel as he didn’t actually feel like chatting up anyone. Sure, he would’ve liked his dick sucked, but at the same time he was probably too annoyed at Alaska to even get it up. Fucking Alaska. He stood up and as he had to take a step to his left to catch his balance, he realised he had probably had little more than what he had intended to. Grabbing the glass of water the bartender had pushed his way earlier, he slowly took command of his body. Sharon was sipping the water as he made his way through the crowd towards the dressing room. He would need a taxi to get all of his stuff with him and as he pushed the dressing room door open, he spotted a certain Russian hooker in front of the dresser reserved for supporting acts. She was dressed in all red, from the curve of her upper lip to the bottom of her sparkly stilettos. Sharon slammed the door shut behind him and stared at Katya, who startled at the bang. She met Sharon’s gaze through the mirror in front of her.

“Oh, it’s you,” Katya chuckled. She had thought the entire building was coming down. Then again, with Sharon Needles, that was a real possibility. “Yes. Me,” Sharon said and gave Katya a quick once-over. What did Alaska see in her? Sure, her long blond curls framed her beautiful face gracefully before dropping to her shoulders – but when, exactly when, had Alaska started to fancy that? Sharon had always considered himself too scrawny for Alaska’s tastes, and now she was fixated to this compact thing? Sharon couldn’t understand it even as she was examining Katya right now. She was wearing lipstick so outrageously red that it probably matched with the one worn by the downtown nightwalkers. Sharon smirked. Katya really did look like the average run-of-the-mill transvestite hooker – and whores should be treated as such.

He walked behind her and stepped close, trapping her in between himself and the dressing table. He grabbed her long curls into a tight hold at her neck and yanked her head back, against his right shoulder. Katya cried out, half of surprise, half of pain.

“Would you explain this to me?” Sharon asked in low baritone.

“Explain what?” Katya winced. She was confused, not only about Sharon’s words but even more so about the hard bulge she could feel pressing against her backside. Sharon smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, but Katya couldn’t tell how much he had been drinking, just that he had. He seemed coherent enough.

“This,” Sharon said, surprisingly calmly, and took out his phone. He lifted it for Katya to see and played her a collection of videos from Instagram. Katya raised her eyebrows as the video ended. That was it? Sharon was jealous? She wanted to smirk, but kept her amusement hidden. Two could play this game and she had the upper hand; not only was she sober, she additionally had no emotional investments to the situation. Katya had actually had the pleasure to meet the surprisingly average looking Asian guy Alaska was currently fucking, but apparently Sharon hadn’t gotten the memo. Katya certainly was not going to volunteer such snippets of information. Especially not now. It had been a long time since Katya had had the pleasure to engage in this kind of fun, too long time. Infuriating Phi Phi during All Stars 2 had been entertaining alright, but this had the potential of being exhilarating. She just needed to play her cards right.

“Seems self-explanatory to me,” Katya snorted with confidence and stared at Sharon, trying to look unimpressed.  “What do you want?” “Are you fucking her?” Sharon snarled against Katya’s jaw, scratching his teeth against her skin as he tightened his grip on her hair. Katya’s cock was starting to show interest.

“What if I am?” she asked, resisting the urge to grind her ass against Sharon’s crotch. The power-play was arousing, and while Katya had already come to the conclusion that there was potential for her to bottom tonight, she wasn’t willing to serve her ass to Sharon on a silver platter. Not when the man seemed perfectly happy to work for it.

“I want my share,” Sharon said and traced Katya’s jaw with his lips. “We used to share all the time.” Katya was sweaty after the show and Sharon caught a strong whiff of her testosterone-laden body odor. It went straight to his cock. Maybe Alaska was onto something?

“That’s not my decision,” Katya said, squirming.

“Not of her,” Sharon laughed and foisted her hand under Katya’s skirt. She wasn’t tucked. “You.”

Katya swallowed down the moan that threatened to escape from her lips. The same unidentified cologne Katya had come to associate with Sharon Needles clung to the air around them; not quite as contemporary as Issey Miyake or even Jean Paul Gaultier’s “Le Male”. Pierre Cardin?

“I don’t bottom,” Katya insisted and she was serious. She rarely did.

“Oh, but you do,” Sharon said and licked Katya’s neck while fondling her testicles over her panties. “Whores do what they’re paid to do.’ The words made Katya halt. She didn’t know whether the comment was fuelled by alcohol, by Sharon’s jealousy, his anger or his need, but she knew that Sharon wasn’t the aggressive, abusive pig the words made him out to be. She examined his reflection in the mirror while appreciating the flat chest pressed against her back, the strong hold in her hair, the firm, confident hand under her skirt. She was positive Sharon would stop at the slightest sign of objection from her. Please don’t stop.

“You’re angry,” she stated. It wasn’t a question. “Does it make you want to fuck me?”

The sexual charge in the room shifted from mere extant to almost oppressive after Katya’s words. Sharon yanked Katya’s panties down to bare her ass.

“Wait,” Katya exhaled, making Sharon meet her gaze in the mirror. “There’s a couch in the other dressing room.”

The husky cackle of Sharon Needles made Katya groan. So hot. “Lead the way.”

Katya didn’t bother pulling her panties up as she walked across the dressing room. She opened the door and left it ajar for Sharon, who was admiring the view presented to him.

Sharon laid Katya on her back on the sofa and ran his tongue over her inner thighs, damp with sweat. When he got to her crotch, he removed the knickers, allowing Katya to move her legs apart. Scraping his teeth along her balls and ass, Sharon made Katya groan and finally gave a lick to her attentive cock. As Katya wiggled herself into position, Sharon took the cue, grabbed her ankles and pushed her legs high over her head. So flexible. He leaned into her with his hips as she opened up for him. So hot. Sharon listened Katya groan and squeal, muttering him instructions on how to move, and soon enough Sharon was coming, coating generously the insides of Katya.

Sharon pulled back carefully and took a seat at the other end of the sofa, lowering his head towards his chest, scratching his temple absentmindedly. He felt spent. How was it possible that one single video made him so wired-up? Fucking Alaska.

Katya eyed the man in front of her and could feel his sperm dripping from her anus. Sharon looked confused but satisfied. Who wouldn’t after shooting a load into a colleague? She was still achingly hard and it looked like Sharon might need some serious incentive to finish her off. His mind seemed to have wandered somewhere far. Somewhere north. Alaska.

Katya stood carefully up on the sofa and straddled Sharon who seemed to pay her no attention. She looked down to the intoxicated man and gently foisted her right hand into the bleached hair. She grabbed it into a tight hold and then yanked Sharon’s head back forcefully.

“We’re not done here,” she hissed, stepping closer. She took a firm hold at the base of her cock and pressed it against Sharon’s cheek.

“You’re going to suck me off, and you’re going to be brilliant at it,” she said firmly, knowing that Sharon could react to the words in multiple different ways but wanting him to yield, wanting him to grant her completion. For a moment Sharon stared at Katya in shock, having not expected such a change in their dynamic, but eventually an uneven smirk spread to his lips. He found Katya’s new attitude, if not intoxicating, then at least interesting – arousing. A feeling that he had been played, and played well, settled within him. Slowly, never shying away from Katya’s gaze, he turned his head to lick the red, precum covered head of Katya’s cock. Show me what you’ve got. When Katya eventually came into his mouth and her salty spunk was dripping from his lips, he realised she’d never let go of his hair. She’d been in total control of the situation, the rhythm and the pace of their entire encounter, and he felt properly used, almost exploited. Damn, girl.

Katya stepped down from the sofa and stretched in satisfaction. She pulled her skirt lower on her hips to cover herself, grabbed her knickers from the floor and noticed Sharon’s wallet next to the sofa. She reached for it and under the inspecting eyes of Miss Sharon Needles, pulled out all of the cash. She rolled the pile into a neat bundle and stuffed it into her bra before flashing him a wide, toothy grin. “Thanks for the tip,” she drawled in a very Alaskan fashion and threw the empty wallet at Sharon before turning on her heels. Sharon watched Katya walk off in her sparkly, red stilettos, the short skirt barely covering her junk. He was left with no questions over why Alaska might fancy a Russian run-off-the-mill transvestite hooker. No questions what so ever. Fucking Alaska. ______ A/N2: Liked it?